PS 2433 

118 
Copy 1 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

-?S t4^;3 

ii^aji injnjngl^ f 0. 

Shelf ...,.^.S 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



•*- 



Heavenly Dawn, 



frigmal ani> %Mi^ f ittes, 



BY ^ 

MARGARET H. MORRIS. 



V 



2^/3 



PHILADELPHIA: 

CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 

624, 626, 628 Market Street, 

i879« 



^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 

MARGARET H. MORRIS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Westcott & Thomson, 

Stereot^ptn and EUctrotyperSi Philada, 



"Farm View." 

This book is published at the suggestion of 
beloved Parents, who have since entered into 
eternal rest ; whose lives on earth were beauti- 
ful and lovely; and whose intercourse among 
men adorned the doctrine of God our Saviour. 

The design of this publication, is to present 
the endearing associations of Home-Life on 
earth, and drift the reader pleasantly, through 
the varied scenes of an earthly pilgrimage, to 
"rest unspeakable and full of glory" in our 
Heavenly Home. 

Margaret H. Morris. 

Upper Dublin, Montgomery co., Pa. 



Mother! Thou wast the guiding spirit of our 
home ; 

To thee my gift I'd bring, 
As to his nest at eve a bird would come, 

His sweetest songs to sing. 



CONTENTS. 



AUTHOR. 



ciginaL 1 

\ M. S. J 



(f^riginal 

F. 

5anfeno\xin. 
13. Hagmonti, 



(Siaxxit ^Iton, 



SECTION I. 

PAGE 

OLD HOMES 23 

HOME, SWEET HOME 24 

HOME 26 

LOVING AND FAITHFUL 2/ 

FATHER 33 

MOTHER 34 

THE FAMILY 35 

MAKING OTHERS HAPPY 36 

GENTLE AVORDS 37 

GENTLY CHECK A CHILD 38 

THE child's PRAYER 39 

THE HOME SERVICE 4I 

SEEDS 42 

SOWING IN HOPE 44 

ONLY 46 

DO SOMETHING 47 

SOMETHING FOR SOMEBODY ... 48 

don't LET MOTHER DO IT ... • 49 

11 



12 






(©riginaL 1 

F. M. S. J 

5Enltncib3n. 

a. Otareg. 

C, or. mpjam^ 

Original. 1 

F. M. S. / 



Co7ite7its. 

PAGE 

WORK TO-DAY 5I 

TRUST AND FOLLOW 53 

TEACH ME THY LESSONS, 

LORD 53 

ONWARD COURAGEOUSLY. . 56 

PRAISE HIM 58 

THE GOLDEN SIDE 59 

life's GOLDEN LEAVES. . . 6 1 

MAIDENHOOD 65 

TO THE BRIDE G"] 

A MEMORY 68 

A PICTURE 71 

A TWILIGHT SCENE 73 

TWILIGHT 74 

A SABBATH AT THE HOME- 
STEAD 76 

THE OLD FAMILY CRADLE. Zd 

RECONCILED 89 

THE HEART KNOWETH ITS 

OWN BITTERNESS .... 92 

SILENCE UNDER TRIALS . . 93 

THE TEMPEST-TOSSED .... 94 

WAITING 98 

OLD LETTERS lOI 

THOUGHTS OF AGE. ..... I08 

LOVE THE OLD IIO 



Contents, 



13 



mnfenobjn* 



<E. or, or. 

F. M. S. / 



PAGE 

MOTHER ^ ^^ 

MY GOOD OLD-FASHIONED MOTHER 112 

MY mother's face 114 

MY MOTHER 1^7 

OUR MOTHER 1^9 

grandmother's SERMON 121 

COMING ^^4- 

THE SUNSET OF LIFE 13° 

THE SPIRIT OF CONSOLATION 135 



[inaL 1 
1. s. i 



F. M. 






SECTION 11. 



TO MY FRIENDS ^39 

FRIENDSHIP 140 

GRANT ME, O GOD, A STAR TO BE 1 42 

TO MY FRIENDS H3 

CAST THY BURDEN 144 

QUESTION NOT H5 

DO RIGHT ^4-0 

FAITH 147 

TO A FRIEND ^49 

COMMUNION ^ 5° 

THE INVITATION : • • ^ 5^ 



14 



AUTHOR. 






M* l^rainartJ. 
Uamarttne, 

13onar, 
jmiller. 



Co7itents. 

PAGE 

DIFFICULTIES 1 55 

TO A FRIEND 1 58 

THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT 160 

LITTLE BY LITTLE 164 

LINKS IN THE CHAIN 166 

DO JUSTLY 168 

MIZPAH 168 

JESUS ONLY 170 

A SONG OF THANKS I7I 

PRAYER 172 

THOUGHTS AT THE GRAVE OF 

A FRIEND 173 

EXPRESSIVE SILENCE I75 

TRIFLE NOT 180 

FINISH THY WORK 181 

HIDDEN LIFE 182 

AT THE LAST 184 

KNOWING AS WE ARE KNOWN. 1 85 



(f^rifiinaL 

F. M. S 



.'■} 



SECTION III. 

NATURE 189 

MYSTERIES OF NATURE I90 

THE BEST TEACHER I92 



Contents, 1 5 

AUTHOR. ^^^^ 

<^wnaL| ^^^^^3^ ,^3 

F. M. S. J 

^Enknoton, morning 194 

^non, NOON 195 

^onar, evening 19^ 

H. (2!5rant, night 197 

i^lOOmfieltl, THE SEASONS I98 

Scripture, the months 199 

gj, 13. OTiaterturg* the snow-wreath — 204 

5Rnltnobn. wanderings 206 

«« THE alpine cataract. 21$ 

«« THE MOUNTAIN STREAM. 219 

«« A RAINY DAY 221 

<« AFTER THE STORM 22$ 

" SPRING 227 

«* BIRDS 228 

IS. S- SWlti^, THE WOOD-THRUSH 23O 

(DrigmaL \ ^ praise-meeting of 

F. M. S. J THE BIRDS 235 

5Enltnob3n, to a sea-gull 253 

(jT^^ l^OSSetti* CONSIDER THE LILIES OF 

THE FIELD 256 

^UnkltOton, THE PRAISE-MEETING OF 

THE FLOWERS 257 

31. (^. iL3)0nS. CONSIDER THE LILIES . . 262 

5Enifeno \nn. evening thought 264 

©nsinaLj ^^^^^ ,64 

F. M. S. J 



1 6 Contents. 

AUTHOR. PAGE 

5Etti&^tlCt0tt» AUTUMN IN THE WOODS 266 

" THE AUTUMN FOREST. 268 

" THE FALLEN LEAF. . . 270 

J^. IST^alL LEAFLESS TREES .... 277 

^Se Spirit's (EJanfle. the works of god . 281 



SECTION IV. 

^anfenobn. here am i 285 

" beneath his wing. . 286 

«• CALLED aside 288 

" CLINGING TO THEE . . 29O 

" HE KNOWETH BEST . . 292 

«« HE STIRRED MY NEST 294 

" ALL, ALL IS KNOWN 

TO THEE 296 

«« WORDS OF COMFORT . 298 

" JESUS, MY SAVIOUR, 

LOOK ON ME . . . 299 

" MEMORIALS 30I 

" THE SINGLE HEAD OF 

WHEAT 303 

" KNOW THYSELF 309 

" THE SECRET SPRING. 3IO 



H.^- 



AUTHOR. 



F. M. S. J 



WBaxim. 



Contents. 1 7 

PAGE 

watch for the morning 313 

quietly rest 3i 5 

all's well 317 

god ever near 318 

past and present 3i9 

a thought 320 

psalm xvi. 5 , 322 



SECTION V. 



'■■) 



(DrigmaL 

F. M. S. 

barton* 



li3urleigft» 
lEUiott, 



©loset of f rajjer, 



THE CLOSET OF PRAYER 325 

RETIREMENT AND PRAYER 326 

MY VESPER-SONG 327 

PRAYER AND PRAISE 330 

THY WILL BE DONE 331 

PRAYER FOR DIVINE STRENGTH. . 332 

FAITH 333 

THE ANGEL OF THE LORD 335 

THE HOUR OF PRAYER 336 

THE HOURS OF EVENING CLOSE . . 337 



1 8 Contents. 

AUTHOR. PAGE 

5EnknClton» the parting spirit 338 

" THE EVENING SERVICE 34D 

'• NIGHT-MUSINGS 342 

JIJ. iHOCire* MIDNIGHT HYMN 343 

^Enknolun* still with thee 345 

MORNING PRAYER IN ILLNESS .... 347 

" THE EARTHLY TEMPLE 349 

liSlaring, psalm xxiv. i — 354 



SECTION VI. 

^nifenobn, memories 357 

'* LIGHT 358 

** SLEEPING 358 

" A. P. M 359 

*♦ OUR MOTHER 361 

*♦ THE saint's DEPARTURE 364 

** FOLD HER hands GENTLY 366 

" MOTHER 367 

^. IB, ^. I LOVE THY GRAVE 369 

Original. 1 

> THE BLESSEDNESS OF TEARS 37O 

F. M. b. J 



AUTHOR. 



Contents. 1 9 

PAGE 

A LITTLE WAY 37 1 

FATHER AND MOTHER 373 

FOLD THEM 373 

SUNSET 374 

THE PILGRIMAGE PATH 374 



(DriQinaL 1 

F. M. S. J 

Conner. 



SECTION VII. 

i^eabenlg Baton. 

satisfied 377 

life's years 378 

western light 380 

heavenly dawn 38i 

THE VOICE OF THE LORD 382 

THE NEW SONG 383 

ON THE THRESHOLD 384 

THE BORDER-LAND 385 

THE OTHER WORLD 388 

MANY MANSIONS 39O 

I SHALL BE SATISFIED 39 1 



20 



Contents. 



F. M. S. J 



©pi&am. 



SECTION VIII. 

PAGE 
HEAVEN 395 

REST 396 

HEAVENLY REST 399 

OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEA- 
VEN 400 

HEAVEN 401 



I. 



HOME LIFE. 



Home-Life 



Old Homes. 



Fond memory ofttimes seems to ivy turned, 

So lovingly it clings to ruined places 
Where youthful hearts and lips and eyes once 
burned, 
And where they have left behind a few sad 
traces. 

Can there be found one other spot on earth 
To which its tendrils cling through all the 
morrows 
More close than to the home that gave us birth. 
With all its scenes of our first joys and sor- 
rows ? 



24 Home, Sweet Home. 

The garden gate, the overhanging trees, 

The neighboring forge, with its harmonious 
clinking, 
The woodbine porch that fed the busy bees, 
The winding brook where all the kine stood 
drinking, — 

These, these are cherished memories of the 
soul 
That, blending with two sweet pale furrowed 
faces. 
Hold all our human being in control, 

And make old homes the holiest of places. 



Home, Sweet Home. 

How cheering and sweet in a cold world like 
this. 
When joys melt away like the shore-driven 
foam. 
To feel that one's heart is a planet of bliss 
Revolving in light round the centre of home. 



Home, Sweet Home, 25 

The soul may pursue the bright meteor of 
fame, 
The phantoms of glory, ambition or pride; 
But their glitter is false as their pleasures are 
tame 
Compared with the bliss of one's own fire- 
side. 

All joys are delusive save those of the heart. 
The grass may be green while it grows on a 
tomb, 
But the verdure of feeling can never depart 
When the soil where it springs is the garden 
of home. 

The world may have pleasures all sparkling and 
gay 
As the crystals of snow which the branches 
adorn, 
But the first breath of sorrow will sweep them 
away. 
While the heart, like the tree, is left bare and 
forlorn. 



26 Home, 

Oh, then, when the bosom has cares which an- 
noy, 
And the fair sky of life becomes chequer'd 
with gloom, 
How blissful to think that a fountain of joy 
As a well-spring of pleasure is gushing at 
home! 



Home. 

Then the disciples went away unto their own home.— John 

XX. 10. 

Where burns the fireside brightest, 

Cheering the social breast? 
Where beats the fond heart lightest, 

Its humble hopes possessed ? 
Where is the hour of sadness, 

With meek-eyed patience borne. 
Worth more than those of gladness 

Which Mirth's gay cheeks adorn? 
Pleasure is marked by fleetness 

To those who ever roam. 



Loving and Faithful. 27 

While grief itself has sweetness 
At home, sweet home. 

There blend the ties that strengthen 

Our hearts in hours of grief, 
The silver links that lengthen 

Joy's visits when most brief: 
There eyes in all their splendor 

Are vocal to the heart, 
And glances bright and tender 

Fresh eloquence impart. 
Then dost thou sigh for pleasure? 

Oh, do not widely roam. 
But seek that hidden treasure 

At home, sweet home. 



Loving and Faithful. 

" Loving and faithful " even unto death ! 

Well may it falter, 
The lip, this solemn promise as it saith 

Before that altar 



28 Loving aiid FaithfuL 

Where o'er the trembling covenanters lean 
Recording angel and high priest unseen. 

*' Loving and faithful !" What ! is it to be 

Now and for ever? 
The heart is asking as it puts to sea, 

To turn back never, 
If it can keep its promise of to-day 
In its full meaning sacred and alway. 

" Loving and faithful " while a boundless reach 

Of spotless azure 
O'erarches hearts too full for common speech 

Their bliss to measure. 
** Loving and faithful " even when clouds lie 
In rolls of silvered fleece along the sky. 

" Loving and faithful " while existence fills 

With joy o'erflowing, 
While in their faces sweet airs from the hills 

Of morn are blowing, 
And when loud storm-winds have their own 

wild will, 
Wrapping their vow around them closer still. 



Loving and Faithfnl. 29 

''Loving and faithful" through the common lot; 

Rejoicing, weeping ; 
Whether in palace home or humble cot, 

Their high trust keeping, 
And when life's daily wear to life shall bring 
The spots, that round poor human nature 
cling. 

" Loving and faithful" through the spirit's strife ; 

With joy o'erflowing 
In lonely byways ; struggling for its life 

Where no eye follows; 
In earnest wrestling with its household foes 
How earnest and how strong One only knows. 

I have been reading in the life of two — 

_ A sire and mother — 
Whom change, and care, and sorrow nearer 

drew 

To one another; 
Closer and closer, till the winter sod 
Lay on his breast, whose soul went up to 

God. 



30 Loving and Faithful. 

They shared together many a bitter cup 

And tear-wet pillow, 
But each the other's sinking head bore up 

O'er wave and billow, 
For they had pitched their tent with faith-lit 

eyes 
By windows opening out toward Paradise. 

There they often sat at eve and read 

Alone together. 
Or watching when dark days were overhead, 

And stormy weather, 
The far blue hills which earth from heaven 

divide. 
Tipped with the glory of the inner side. 

They had their sunny days and simple joys 

And fireside pleasures. 
And gifts of merry-hearted girls and boys 

For household treasures. 
These grew and left them; children's children 

came 
Back with the mother's look and father's name. 



Loving and Faithful. 31 

Then tiny feet went pattering all about 

The empty places — 
Recovered sunbeams peeping in and out, 

Their sweet round faces 
And loving ways and little clinging arms 
To toil and care perpetual counter-charms. 

They had their friends — the warm, the tried, 
the true, 

Some great, some lowly ; 
Their unassuming goodness round them drew 

The pure, the holy. 
Sweet singers came, and saints' ascending pray- 
ers 
Their low-roofed dwelling filled with odorous 
airs. 

Their hearth-stone was a broad and pleasant 
space 

Where many mingled, 
Where none for honor and the highest place 

Apart were singled, 



32 Loving and Faithful. 

This their example has bequeathed for others ; 
The children of one father, all are brothers. 

And as their souls' hves glided into one, 

The tie that bound them 
Seemed lovelier with each day's duty done 

To those around them ; 
The bridal ring grew brighter and more bright 
As on they journeyed with the sons of light. 

They had the Christian's fare — hard, rugged steeps 

To travel over; 
But He who faithful ones for ever keeps 

Safe under cover 
Shook down upon them from its crystal lining 
The healing of His wings above them shining. 

Age brought them sicknesses and silver hairs, 

But morn and even 
Still found them higher up the narrow stairs 

That wind to heaven. 
Just at the landing they missed one another : 
God parted them, the father and the mother. 



Fathci% 33 

From the hushed chamber where the dying lay 

Sweet rose their hymning; 
The tears from her meek eyes he wiped away, 

His own fast dimming. 
We thank thee, Father, that our souls can see 
No shadow on the path that leads to Thee. 

By the sick father sat the aged mother, 

Watching and bending 
O'er him with love Jie counted like no other 

To the still ending; 
It found them with clasped hands and mingling 

breath, 
" Loving and faithful " even unto death. 



Fa ther. 



Of all the knots which Nature ties — 
The secret, sacred sympathies 
That as with viewless chains of gold 
The heart a happy prisoner hold — 

3 



34 MotJie7\ 

None is more bright, more chaste, more pure, 
Stronger stern trials to endure, 
None is more purged of earthly leaven, 
More like the love of highest heaven, 
Than that which binds in bonds how blest 
A daughter to a Father's breast. 



Mother. 

Mother, thou wast the guiding spirit of our 
home : 

To thee my gift I'd bring, 
As to his nest at eve a bird will come 

His sweetest songs to sing. 

A mother's love ! Oh, what can earth bestow 

So steady and so pure? 
Its flame divine more clearly seems to glow 

The more it must endure. 

A mother's love ! Oh, ye who know the bliss, 
Treasure it while you may; 



The Family. 35 

The time will come when you imprint your kiss 
On unresponsive clay. 

Whate'er your pathway, over thorns or flowers, 

No other love shall come 
So truly yours as this, that blessed life's hours 

Within your childhood's home. 



The Family. 



The family is like a book : 
The children are the leaves ; 

The parents are the cover that 
Protective beauty gives. 

At first the pages of the book 
Are blank and purely fair; 

But Time soon writeth memories 
And painteth pictures there. 

Love is the little golden clasp 
That bindeth up the trust; 

Oh, break it not, lest all the leaves 
Shall scatter and be lost. 



36 Making O therms Happy, 

Making Others Happy, 

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. — Prov. xvii. 22. 

A MERRY sunbeam in a glen, 
" Far from the busy haunts of men," 
Lay thinking what it best could do 
To render others happy too. 

It wandered to the forest gray, 
And found the wild winds in their play 
Had stripped the noble woodland trees 
Of half their pretty brilliant leaves. 

The wild-flower lifted up its head 
To see the sunbeam pass its bed, 
And thought within its tiny self, 
Who was that laughing, dancing elf? 

It hastened to the river-side 
And kissed the angry, heaving tide, 
Until the waters, cold and deep. 
Lay still as if in peaceful sleep. 



Gentle Words, 37 

It 7iext tripped by a cottage door, 
And shone across the sanded floor, 
Until the children stopped their play 
To bless the little golden ray. 

May we all like this sunbeam be 
From every selfish motive free. 
Willing to do all in our power 
To fill with joy each coming hour. 



Gentle Words. 

How sweet are words of kindness 
From dear ones that we love! 

How like celestial favors 
Descended from above 1 

/ guard these wordy treasures 
As miser guards his hoards. 

How costless, yet hoiv priceless. 
Are sweet and gentle zvords ! 



^S Gently Check a Child, 



Gently Check a Child. 

A child, when asked why a certain tree grew crooked, re- 
plied, " Somebody trod upon it, I suppose, when it was little," 

He who checks a child with terror, 
Stops its play and stills its song, 

Not alone commits an error, 
But a grievous moral wrong. 

Give it play and never fear it : 

Active life is no defect; 
Never, never break its spirit; 

Curb it only to direct. 

Would you stop the flowing river, 
Thinking it would cease to flow? 

Onward must it flow for ever: 
Better teach it where to go. 



The Child's Prayer. 39 

The Child's Prayer. 

Into her chamber went 

A little maid one day, 
And by a chair she knelt, 
And thus began to pray: 
" Jesus, my eyes I close — 
Thy form I cannot see; 
If thou art near me, Lord, 
I pray thee speak to me." 
A still small voice she heard within her call : 
" What is it, child ? I hear thee ; tell me all." 

** I pray thee, Lord," she said, 
"That thou wilt condescend 
To tarry in my heart. 

And ever be my friend. 
The path of life is dark — 
I would not go astray; 
Oh, let me have thy hand 
To lead me in the way." 
" Fear not ; I will not leave thee, child, alone." 
She thought she felt a soft hand press her own. 



40 The Child's Prayer, 

" They tell me, Lord, that all 
The living pass away — 
The aged soon imist die, 

And even children may. 
Oh, let my parents live 

Till I a woman grow; 
For if they die, what can 
A little orphan do?" 
" Fear not, my child ; whatever ills may come, 
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home." 

Her little prayer was said, 

And from her chamber now 
She pass'd forth with the light 
Of heaven upon her brow. 
" Mother, I've seen the Lord ; 
His hand in mine I felt; 
And oh, I heard him say, 
As by my chair I knelt, 
' Fear not, my child ; whatever ills may come, 
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home.'" 



The Home Service, 41 



The Home Service. 

Grandpa hears the church-bells ringing 
On the holy Sabbath morn; 

Poor old grandpa ! he is aged, 

And his strength is sorely worn ; 

So within his chair he's sitting, 

With his grandchild round him flitting. 

But the childish eyes discover 

That his eyes are churchward turned. 
Precious child ! her heart is thoughtful, 
Though she be not wise or learned : 
■ Dear old dranpa ! don't be sorry ! 
Make a minister of Florry !" 

Soon the Bible, large and heavy, 

Lies upon the little knee 
Upside down ; but Florry, singing 

Little hymns so earnestly. 
Never dreams but that her preaching 
Equals all the church is teaching. 



42 Seeds. 

Good old grandpa! he is happy 

With the little singer near; 
Now " I want to be an angel " 

Sweetly falls upon his ear. 
But what's this ? The church is closing ; 
Tired grandpapa is dozing! 



Seeds. 

We are sowing, daily sowing, 

Countless seeds of good and ill, 
Scattered on the level lowland. 

Cast upon the windy hill — 
Seeds that sink in rich brown furrows 

Soft with heaven's gracious rain ; 
Seeds that rest upon the surface 

Of the dry unyielding plain ; 

Seeds that fall amid the stillness 
Of the lonely mountain glen ; 

Seeds cast out in crowded places, 
Trodden under foot of men; 



Seeds. 43 

Seeds by idle hearts forgotten, 

Flung at random on the air; 
Seeds by faithful souls remembered, 

Sown in tears and love and prayer; 



Seeds that lie unchanged, unquickened, 

Lifeless, on the teeming mould ; 
Seeds that live and grow and flourish 

When the sower's hand is cold. 
By a whisper sow we blessings. 

By a breath we scatter strife ; 
In our words and looks and actions 

Lie the seeds of death and life. 



Thou who knowest all our weakness, 

Leave us not to sow alone; 
Bid Thine angels guard the furrows 

Where the precious grain is sown, 
Till the fields are crowned with glory, 

Filled with mellow ripened ears — 
Filled with fruit of life eternal 

From the seeds we sowed in tears. 



44 Sowing in Hope. 

Check the froward thoughts and passions, 

Stay the hasty, heedless hands, 
Lest the germs of sin and sorrow 

Mar our fair and pleasant lands. 
Father, help each weak endeavor, 

Make each faithful effort blest, 
Till Thine harvest shall be garnered 

And we enter into rest. 



I 

Sowing in Hope, 



** My words are poor and weak," I said ; " they 
pass 
Like summer wind above the summer grass. 

" To utter them seems idle and in vain ; 
I cannot hope to gather them again. 

"And yet, impelled by some deep inward 
voice, 
I must work on ; I have no other choice. 



Sowing in Hope. 45 

" But oh, my words are poor and weak," I said ; 
"The truth is quick, the utterance cold and 
dead." 

"Nay, nay, not so!" he answered. "Sow thy 
seed 
Unquestioning; God knoweth there is need. 

" For every grain of truth in weakness sown 
He watches over who protects his own. 



"Though buried long, it shall spring up at 
length. 
And shake like Lebanon its fruitful strength.'* 



' He said and left me, while I pondered o'er 
The holy truths so often heard before. 

And while I pondered, unawares there stole 
A strange, sweet, subtle strength through all 
my soul. 

I rose and went my way, and asked no more 
If words of mine had any fruit in store ; 



46 Only, 

Content to drop my patient seed, although 
My hands shall never gather where they strow ; 

Leaving the harvest, be it great or small, 
In His dear keeping who is all in all. 



Onl Y. 

Only a seed ! but it chanced to fall 
In a little cleft of a city wall, 
And taking root grew bravely up, 
Till a tiny blossom crowned its top. 

Only a flower! but it chanced that day 
That a burdened heart passed by that way; 
And the message that through the flower was 

sent 
Brought the weary soul a sweet content. 

For it spake of the lilies so wondrously clad, 
And the heart that was tired grew strangely 
glad 



Do So7nething. 47 

At the thought of a tender care over all 
That noted even a sparrow's fall. 

Only a thought! but the work it wrought 
Could never by tongue or pen be taught ; 
For it ran through a life like a thread of gold, 
And the life bore fruit a hundred fold. 

Only a word ! but 'twas spoken in love, 
With a whispered prayer to the Lord above; 
And the angels in heaven rejoiced once more, 
For a new-born soul " entered in by the door." 



Do Something. 



If the world seems cold to you, 
Kindle fires to warm it; 

Let their comfort hide from you 
Winters that deform it. 

Hearts as frozen as your own 
To that radiance gather; 



48 Somethi7ig for Somebody. 



You will soon forget to moan, 
** Ah ! the cheerless weather !" 



If the world's a " vale of tears," 

Smile till rainbows span it ; 
Breathe the love that life endears, 

Clear from clouds to fan it. 
Of your gladness lend a gleam 

Unto souls that shiver; 
Show them how dark Sorrow's stream 

Blends with Hope's bright river. 



Something for Somebody. 

Something for somebody ! Let it peal 

Through the daybreak of the morning air; 

Something for somebody ! Let it steal 
As a soft echo after prayer. 

Something for somebody ! Let it ring 

A clear keynote through the common chord ; 

Something for somebody ! Let it 'bring 
A new, fresh grace to the family board. 



Something for Somebody. 49 

Something for somebody ! How or why, 
It makes no odds how small it may be — 

The humblest duty that's just close by, 

The small sweet kindness that's next to 
thee ; 

The giving a book, a flower, a tone, 

The cup of water to weary lip; 
The helping the angel roll a stone 

Out of a path where a foot might slip. 

Something for somebody ! He prays best 
Who lives in this great unspoken prayer, 

Which waketh a life-song in his breast 
That even the angels stop to hear. 

Life's angels listen ; life's angels seize 

The "something" hidden within the chord 

In this: "Given to one of the least of these:" 

They catch a " something " given to God. 
4 



50 Don't let Mother do it. 

Don't let Mother do it 

Daughter, don't let mother do it! 

Do not let her slave and toil 
While you sit, a useless idler, 

Fearing your soft hands to soil. 
Don't you see the heavy burdens 

Daily she is wont to bear 
Bring the lines upon her forehead, 

Sprinkle silver in her hair? 

Daughter, don't let mother do it! 

Do not let her bake and broil 
Through the long, bright summer hours; 

Share with her the heavy toil. 
See ! her eye has lost its brightness, 

Faded from her cheek the glow, 
And the step that once was buoyant 

Now is feeble, weak and slow. 

Daughter, don't let mother do it! 

She has cared for you so long! 
Is it right the weak^nd feeble 

Should be toiling for the strong? 



Work To-day. 51 

Waken from your listless languor, 

Seek her side to cheer and bless, 
And your grief will be less bitter 
When the sods above her press. 

Daughter, don't let mother do it! 

You will never, never kn^W'"' ' 
What were home without a mother 

Till that mother lieth low — 
Low beneath the budding daisies, 

Free from earthly care and pain, 
To the home so sad without her 

Never to return again. 



Work To-day. 



Let us now be up and doing, 
Let us work while it is day ; 

Soon the shades of night shall gather 
O'er our dim receding way. 

Ere the silver cord is broken 
And our feeble life is o'er, 



52 Wo7^k To-day. 

Let us work to-day in earnest, 
For to-day shall come no more. 

Life is not the time for slumber; 

Hate and danger mar the road; 
Men yet dwell in sin and darkness 

In the vineyard of thy God. 
Lift thy voice to wandering mortals ; 

Speak the truth that all may hear; 
Nobly combat wrong and error, 

Firm in purpose, without fear. 

God is o'er thee; Truth is mighty; 

Faith and Love are wondrous strong ; 
Songs of triumph wait on Labor: 

All high deeds to her belong. 
Nature works ; true life is action : 

Brother, wield this godlike power; 
Live and act to-day in earnest; 

Act and live thy little hour. 



Teach me thy Lessons, Lord, 53 
Trust and Follow, 

Upon thy God must thou rely, 

In bhndness venture all, 
Nor dare complain nor question why. 

In faith obey His call. 
And thy whole being with Him leave 

In singleness of heart, 
By losing self from Him receive 

A brighter, better part. 
Thus bow beneath His holy hand 

Who gives whate'er thou needs. 
Hear and obey His blest command, 

And ask not where it leads. 



Teach me thy Lessons, Lord. 

We know that all things work together for good to them 
that love God. 

Teach me Thy lessons. Lord, in Thine own 
way 

From day to day ; 



54 Teach 7ne thy Lessons, Loi^d. 

The changings and the turnings in my lot 
Are not forgot. 

And though the winding path be hid from 
view, 

Yet Thou canst see; 
Thou knowest each stone, each thorn, upon 
the road, 

Thou knowest the load: 
If 'tis too heavy, Thou wilt bear a part 
Upon Thy heart. 

Sometimes the sunshine on my path is seen, 

And all is green ; 
Will it last long ? I may not seek to see : 

'Tis known to Thee. 

Sometimes a river dark and wide appears. 

And wakes my fears, 
And oft I linger, weeping, on the brink, 

Dreading to sink. 
But the7i^ Thy voice sounds gently at my side: 

" Fear not the tide ; 
Though deep the waters run, far off the shore, 

I'll bear thee o'er." 



Teach me thy Lessons, Loi^d. 55 

No longer, then, I'll yield to doubt and sin, 

But will step in ; 
Though wide the flood, yet wider is Thy love. 

Which oft I prove; 
Though it be deep. Thine arms are still be- 
neath. 

To save from death. 
Then let me journey on with trustful mind, 

Leaving behind 
The wondrous labyrinth through which I've 
gone. 

But not alone. 



The rocks and briers I thought it hard to 
meet. 

Wounding my feet; 
The burning plain where not a shadow lay 

To break the way; 
The dark, bewildering forest where no light 

Could pierce the night; 
And that green vale where flowers covered 
fair 

The hidden snare: — 



56 Onward Courageously, 

Through all Thou leadest me, so weak, 

And oft didst seek 
To bring thy wandering child, so prone to 
stray, 

Back to the way. 

Then teach and lead me, Lord, in Thine own 
way, 

From day to day — 
In Thine own way through all my wander- 
ings here, 

So Thou be near; 
In Thine own way to my dear home above 
Of perfect love. 



Onward Courageously. 

Bend thee to action, nerve thee to duty! 

Whate'er it may be, never despair! 
God reigns on high ; pray to Him truly : 

He will an answer give to thy prayer. 



Onward Courageously. 57 

Shrinketh thyself from crosses before thee? 

Art thou so made as to tremble and fear? 
Confide in thy God : He will watch o'er thee ; 

Humbly and trustingly, brother, draw near. 

Clouds may be gathering, light may depart ; 
Earth that thou treadest seem crumbling 
away ; 
New foes, new dangers, around thee may 
start, 
And spectres of evil tempt thee astray. 

Onward courageously ! Nerved for the task. 
Do all thy duty, and strength shall be 
thine ; 
Whate'er you want in humility ask : 

Aid shall be given from a Source that's 
Divine. 

Do all thy duty, faithful and truly; 

Trust in thy Maker: He's willing to save 
Thee from all evil, and keep thee securely. 

And make thee triumphant o'er death and 
the grave. 



58 Praise Him. 

Praise Him. 

A cheerful spirit impressed with genuine Christian philos- 
ophy inspired the following : 

Joy and pain to all are given 

In the cup of human life. 
E'en as in the April heaven 

Smiles and tears are still in strife. 
Think not that alone thou weepest, 

By some present grief oppressed ; 
When in happy dreams thou sleepest, 

Other sad hearts long for rest. 

Happiness is all around thee 

If thou seek for it aright; 
Darkness should not so confound thee 

That thou canst not find the light. 
If the humblest floweret springeth 

In the pathway thou dost tread, 
Unto thee some joy it bringeth : 

Catch its fragrance ere 'tis fled. 

Sadly when thy spirit sigheth, 

'Neath its weight of anguish bowed, 



The Golden Side. 59 

And upon thy heart there lieth 
The dark shadow of a cloud, 

Look thou up in faith to heaven; 
God will give thee strength to bear 

All that unto thee is given 
Of distress^ of grief, or care. 

When thy cup o'erflows with gladness, 

Lift thy thankful heart above ; 
If oppressed with fear and sadness, 

Trust thy heavenly Father's love. 
Thou shalt know each hidden reason 

When thine earthly work is done; 
Praise Him, then, in every season. 

For the shadow and the sun. 



The Golden Side. 

There is many a rest on the road of life 
If we only would stop to take it, 

And many a tone from the better land 
If the querulous heart would wake it. 



6o The Golden Side. 

To the sunny soul that is full of hope, 
And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth, 

The grass is green and the flowers are bright, 
Though the wintry storm prevaileth. 

Better to hope though the clouds hang low, 

And to keep the eyes still lifted, 
For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through 

When the ominous clouds are drifted. 
There was never a night without a day; 

Nor an evening without a morning; 
And the darkest hour, the proverb goes, 

Is the hour before the dawning. 

There is many a gem in the path of life, 

Which we pass in our idle pleasure. 
That is richer far than the jewelled crown. 

Or the miser's hoarded treasure. ' 

It may be the love of a little child. 

Or a mother's prayer to Heaven, 
Or only a beggar's grateful thanks 

For a cup of water given. 

Better to weave in the web of life 
A bright and golden filling, 



Lifes Golden Leaves. 6i 

And do God's will with a ready heart 
And hands that are swift and willing, 

Than to snap the delicate silver threads 
Of our curious lives asunder, 

And then Heaven blame for the tangled ends, 
And sit to grieve and wonder. 



Life's Golden Leaves. 

AN ALLEGORY. 

Upon a violet-bank reclined 

A childish maiden fair, 
Who smiled to feel the evening breeze 

Sport with her raven hair. 

And while her lustrous eyes pursued 

A bluebird in its flight, 
They seemed the windows of a soul, 

The home of love and light. 

But wherefore rose she suddenly? 
Why was her eager gaze 



62 Life's Golden Leaves, 

So bent upon the distant wood 
With unrepressed amaze? 

'Tis true the sun was sinking fast, 
While darker grew each glade, 

But hers was not the heart to fear 
The forest or its shade. 

A stranger form emerged from thence, 

And as he took his way 
Toward where the startled damsel stood. 

He beckoned her to stay. 

No violence was in his mien, 

Nor was his manner wild, 
But gracefully he waved his hand 

To soothe the gentle child. 

An aged, reverend man he seemed, 

In garb of antique style. 
Of lands remote from where she dwelt 

By many a weary mile. 

A scythe across his back was thrown, 
And in his wrinkled hand 



Lifes Golden Leaves, (i2i 

He bore aloft an hour-glass 
Full-charged with golden sand. 

His silver locks streamed in the wind, 

As with a steady tread 
He walked to where the damsel stood, 

In mingled doubt and dread. 

The maiden gazed with rising awe 

Upon that withered form. 
Which mutely spoke of sultry suns 

And many a winter's storm. 

But when the old man's glance met hers. 

He taught his lips to smile, 
And sought by gentle looks and words 

Her terror to beguile. 

He said he had a precious gift 

To yield unto her hand — 
A book which she might read for years, 

And seek to understand; 

And when that tome had been perused, 
The visit he'd renew. 



64 Lifes Golden Leaves. 

And then display from out his store 
Another to her view. 

And saying this, his robe disclosed 
A book, with diamond clasp, 

Which tenderly he placed within 
Her timid, doubtful grasp. 

She knew not he had gone until 
She heard him breathe *' Adieu !" 

But when she turned to where he stood, 
He was no more in view. 

'Twas then the volume wide she ope'd, 

And did each page unfold ; 
But who can tell her wonder vast 

To find the leaves were gold / 

The title, traced in rainbow hues, 

Her quick attention drew. 
And that unto the mystic tome 

Revealed a distant clue. 

But yet at first it sounded strange, 
And seemed, indeed, uncouth, 



Maidenhood, 65 

That this dehghtful book should bear 
No other name than Youth! 



Maidenhood, 

Sweet maiden, pausing by hfe's stream, 

Amid the opening flowers, 
Linger no longer in thy dream ; 

Fast speed life's earnest hours. 

In that unknown and strange To-be, 
Which day by day creeps on. 

There is a work hath need of thee. 
And calls for thee alone. 

With patient, loving heart go forth 

To meet thy destined lot. 
Trusting in Him who rules the earth; 

Tarry nor falter not. 

What can withstand thee if thy heart 

Be steadfast to the truth? 
To thee is given a blessed part 

That will not pass with Youth — 



66 Maidenhood. 

To walk unspotted through the world, 

Doing thy Master's will, 
While o'er thy head His love unfurled 

Shall be thy banner still; 

While thou shalt show how fair a thing 
True womanhood should be — 

No ideal, as poets sing. 
Above humanity, 

But, present in this world of ours 
To soothe, sustain, and cheer; 

Now stooping for the wayside flowers, 
Now wiping Sorrow's tear, 

Or sowing with undoubting hand 

Seeds of a bloom sublime, 
All broadcast, which will bless the land 

When comes their harvest-time. 

Then pass on to thy shining goal. 

Yet pausing still to aid 
Where a poor sin-sick, aching soul 

Lingers beneath the shade. 



To the Bride, 67 

A minister of good thou art, 

Whose touch the world may move; 

Then truly, nobly, do thy part, 
In wisdom and in love. 



To THE Bride. 



Forth from thy father's hearth thou passest, 

lovely bride, 
Forth into new and smiling paths, leaving the 

old and tried; 
Leaving the dear familiar arms that have shel- 
tered many years. 
Forth on that path of womanhood checkered 

by smiles and tears. 
And a loving prayer goes with thee, from many 

a faithful heart. 
That God may keep thee still as bright, and 

joyous as thou art; 
And grant thee all the happiness that is good 

for thee to know. 
For never shines unshadowed sun upon these 

paths below. 



6S A Memory. 

From love to love still be thy steps, till at thy 

life's calm even 
Thou pass to the best love of all, thy home with 

God in heaven. 



A Memory. 



One quiet eve some years ago, while linger- 
ing by a stile 

That ran along a wayside path to watch the 
clouds a while. 

Ere Thought had lifted from my heart the 
shadoiv of her wing, 

I saw a child, a little girl, returning from a 
spring. 

Her well-filled pitcher lightly pressed her curls 
of silken hair. 

Supported by a tiny hand, and she was very 
fair ; 

With something in her sunny face, pure as the 
sky above, 

And something in her gentle eyes, that guard- 
ian angels love. 



A Memory. 69 

A little fiower blossoming, a step or so aside, 

This happy child of innocence with sudden 
joy espied; 

Then, letting down her pitcher with the same 
sweet, joyous song, 

She watered it half laughingly, then, gayly 
tripped along. 

The flower seemed to raise its head, bowed 
by a summer sun. 

And smile beneath the act which she uncon- 
sciously had done ; 

While wandering on with fairy tread, as mer- 
ry as before, 

I saw her pass the garden gate, then close 
the cottage door. 

Oh, often, when this little scene has crossed 
my thoughts again, 

I've wondered, if with all the love that warm- 
ed her spirit then 

This little girl has tripped through life as joy- 
ous to the last, 

Refreshing all the weary hearts that met her 
as she passed — 



yo A Memory. 

If with unconscious tenderness, her heart has 

paused to bless 
The poor amid their poverty, the sad in their 

distress ; 
Still following up God's teachings, day by day, 

and hour by hour. 
Foreshadowed in that simple scene, the water 

and the flower. 

If with a song as pure and sweet, that voice 

has hushed to rest 
The troubles of an aching heart, a sorrow- 
laden breast; 
If to the wayside wanderer, where'er her 

steps have led, 
The pitcher has been lowered ever kindly 

from her head. 
O holy, happy Charity ! how many pleasures lost 
By those who have not known thee, had been 

worthy of the cost ! 
How many heads a blessing from a better 

world have borne. 
Whilst lowering the pitcher to the weary and 

the worn ! 



A Picture, 71 

Thou who hast stood beside God's spring of 

blessings day by day 
To fill the pitcher of thy wants and carry it 

away, 
The poor, and the dejected, whom God hath 

willed to roam, 
Are resting by the wayside, that leads thee 

to thy home ! 
Oh, let thy heart beat ever quick in actions 

kind to be ; 
Remember Him whose bounty has at all 

times followed thee, 
And deem it not a trouble, in the wayside, or 

the town. 
To linger where the weary are, and let the 

pitcher down. 



A Picture. 



The farmer sat in his easy-chair 

Smoking his pipe of clay. 
While his hale old wife, with busy care, 

Was clearing the dinner away ; 



7^ A Picture, 

A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes 

On her grandfather's knee was catching flies. 

The old man laid his hand on her head 
With a tear on his wrinkled face; 

He thought how often her mother dead 
Had sat in the self-same place. 

As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye, 

" Don't smoke," said the child, " for it makes 
you cry." 

The house-dog lay stretched out on the floor 
Where the shade after noon used to steal ; 
The busy old wife by the open door 

Was turning the spinning-wheel; 
And the old brass clock on the mantel-tree 
' Had plodded along to almost three. 

Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair, 
While close to his heaving breast 

The moistened brow, and the cheek so fair 
Of his sweet grandchild were pressed ; 

His head bent down on her soft hair lay : 

Fast asleep were they both, that summer 
day. 



A Twilight Scene. 73 



A Twilight Scene, 

The twilight deepened round us. Still and 

black 
The great woods climbed the mountain at our 

back, 
And on their skirts, where yet the lingering 

day 
On the shorn greenness of the clearing lay, 
The brown old farmhouse like a bird's nest 

hung; 
With home-like sounds the desert air was 

stirred, 
The bleat of sheep along the hill we heard, 
The bucket splashing in the cool, sweet well, 
The pasture-bars that clattered as they fell. 
Dogs barked, fowls fluttered, cattle lowed ; the 

gate 
Of the barnyard creaked beneath the merry 

weight 
Of sun-brown children listening while they 

swung 



74 Twilight. 

The welcome sound of supper-call to hear ; 
And down the shadowy lane, in tinkling clear, 
The pastoral curfew of the cow-bell rung. 



Twilight. 



The sunset hues are fading fast 
From the fair western sky away, 

The floating clouds which gather round 
Have vanished with their colors gay. 

One star, one bright and quiet star, 
Hangs out its steady light above, 

Over the hushed and resting earth 
Still watching like the eye of love. 

It is the hour so loved by all 

Whose thoughts ar^ lingering with the past, 
For scenes and forms to memory dear 
Gather around us dim and fast. 

Childhood's bright hours, youth's short ro- 
mance, 
And older dreams of power and fame. 



Twilight. 75 

Again come back to cheat the heart, 
So changed by time, yet still the same. 

The mingling tones of voices gone 

Are breathing round us, sweet and low, 

And eyes are beaming once again 
That smiled upon us long ago. 

We gaze upon those loving orbs. 
Which never coldly turn away. 

We clasp the hand and press the lip 
Of forms that but in memory stay. 

We feel the influence of a spell. 

And wake to smiles or melt to tears, 

As pass before the dreaming eye 
The light and shade of other years. 

Oh, pleasant is the dewy morn, 
And golden noon is fair to see ; 

But sweeter far the closing day, 
Dearer the twilight hour, to me. 



76 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 

A Sabbath at the Homestead. 

Once again their annual circle had the round- 
ed seasons run, 

And the earth lay scorched and panting 'neath 
a burning summer's sun ; 

On the green slope of the meadow, near the 
cool spring's mossy side, 

Where the maple shadows lengthen, grazed 
the cattle, sleepy-eyed. 

From her green home in the tree-tops came 
the robin's matin song. 

And the murmur of the leaf-tongues mingled 
with the insect throng; 

All was dreamy, dewy, lovely, as another Sab- 
bath came 

Blushing through the eastern gateway, setting 
sky and hill on flame. 

On his porch, where vine-made shadows tinge 

the oaken floor with green, 
In his chair reclined the farmer, gazing on 

the morning scene; 



A Sabbath at the Homestead, 77 

With the closing of last evening had the clo- 
ver turned to hay, 

And upon the air its fragrance like a magic 
presence lay: 



To the wheatfields' golden billows, to the 

corn-crops on the hill, 
To the orchards' rosy promise, turned his 

gladdened vision still. 
By his side the oldest daughter tastefully the 

linen spread, 
Graced it with the cool, sweet butter, and the 

white and spongy bread. 

At his feet the youngest darling with a frisk- 
ing kitten played. 

Till a peal of silvery laughter echoed through 
the garden shade : 

Bluer than the brow of heaven was the bosom 
of her eye, 

And her gentle, fairy footsteps like a spirit 
glided by. 



78 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 

Book in hand, her manly brother sat beneath 

the spreading tree: 
Not so far had youth departed that he could 

not share her glee; 
And the patient mother fondly watched her 

with a parent's pride : 
She had come, the very image of the little 

one that died. 



Time may cool the burning fever of the soul 
by anguish tossed, 

But in all her bliss a mother "counts the trea- 
sures she has lost; 

Not a lambkin is forgotten : to her spirit they 
are near, 

And she numbers them in heaven as she 
would if they were here. 

When the social meal is finished and the 

morning duties o'er, 
Cleanly robed, the family gather in the wide 

old porch once more ; 



- A Sabbath at the Hoinestead. 79 

Then the father, calmly rising, takes the vol- 
ume of his choice, 
Slowly turns its pages, hallowed with a moth- 
er's sainted voice, 



Hands it to his blue-eyed daughter, and she 
reads with gentle grace, 

All the glow of pure devotion lighting up 
her perfect face; 

On her lip the touching story of the Sa- 
viour's blameless death 

Trembles like some blissful vision swaying in 
a spirit breath. 



Through the dimness of her vision rolls the 

tear adown her cheek 
As she hears that voice prophetic through the 

buried ages speak : 
Closer to her breast the mother clasps the 

cherub on her knee 
As she reads the Father's welcome, " Suffer 

such to come to me." 



8o A Sabbath at the Homestead, 

At the closing of the chapter silently the 

farmer knelt, 
And in fitting words of beauty poured the 

thankfulness he felt: 
"Father, thus far on our journey Thou hast 

been our Shield and Stay; 
Lend us still Thy light, and warm us, with 

Thy trusting love alway. 

" For the grainfields, ripe for harvest, waving 

o'er the sunny land. 
For the trees, the birds, and flowers, all the 

green gifts of Thy hand. 
Do we bless Thee; but, O Father! more of 

gratitude we owe 
For these tender human blossoms, that around 

our footsteps grow. 



*' Oh, we thank Thee for our children ! They 
have turned our thoughts above ; 

They have kindled holy fires on the altar of 
our love. 



A Sabbath at the Homestead. 8i 

Guide them by Thy wiser counsel : we are 

weak and Thou art strong ; 
Though we fondly call them ours, yet they 

more to Thee belong. 



"Seven times the giving angel hath brought 

sunshine to our door; 
Two that made our circle perfect, we were 

summoned to restore, 
And we gave them, Father, shedding tears of 

sorrow on their dust : 
Thou hast lent them for a season; we will 

hold them but in trust. 



" Not for us yon stately temple where the 

heavenward steeples rise : 
In this little church of home-love, we are 

nearer to the skies; 
Not for us the solemn organ swelling through 

the vaulted dome : 
Song of bird and children voices make the 

music of our home ; 



82 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 

'' Not for us the one day holy, set apart for 

prayer and praise : 
Six we give to labor, Father — all we number 

as Thy days. 
In those crowded aisles where thousands come 

to swell the loud acclaim 
We have often sought Thy presence, but have 

only heard Thy name, 

"So we listened to the promise, that where 

' there are two or three 
Joined together in my service, there I gladly 

too will be;' 
And we know that Thou art with us, though 

the world may coldly frown; 
Even now within our spirits Thou art letting 

heaven down. 



*' Though the rulers in high places play the 

tyrant and the knave, 
Father, we will clothe the naked, we will help 

the bleeding slave : 



A Sabbath at the Homestead: ^'y^ 

Let them come ; our doors are open ; fines 

and fetters we can bear; 
Thou art with our suffering brother, and we 

have not Thee to spare. 



" Nerve us in the time of trial ; keep the 

generous impulse warm ; 
We have seen Thee in the sunshine : let us 

know Thee in the storm." 
Silently, on unseen pinions, did the noontide 

come and go, 
And along the sky of evening burned the 

sunset's crimson glow; 

Arm in arm, through flowering meadows, stroll- 
ed the farmer and his wife, 

Talking sweetly of the pleasures that had 
crowned their wedded life ; 

On the hillsides, white with daisies, never 
weary of their play. 

Sported still the youngest trio, heeding not 
the close of day; 



84 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 

While the brother, and the sister, stepping 

into riper years. 
Sat and wove a rosy garland of their future 

hopes and fears. 
"Twenty years to-night, dear Ellen," said the 

farmer, speaking low. 
As they paused beneath the willows, where 

the singing waters flow, 

" Did we pledge our love and promise to be 

one till life's last day : 
How that pledge has been remembered let 

our darling children say. 
Thievish Time may write his furrows on that 

brow, once young and fair, 
Dim thine eyelids, pale the roses, silver o'er 

thy chestnut hair, 



"Still the passion of the lover in this breast 

shall glow for thee : 
Thou wert dear that blessed evening: thou 

art dearer now to me. 



A Sabbath at the Homestead. 85 

Though I feel my youth departing, it is rest- 
ing rich and warm, 

And with softer grace and beauty, in our Ed- 
ward's manly form; 



"Though the blue orbs of the maiden Time 

hath touched with deeper dyes, 
Blue as then the river sparkles in thy Mary's 

gentle eyes; 
And I feel that what was stolen by the years 

of toil and pain 
In a more than tenfold measure has been 

meted out again." 



Supper over at the homestead, listen to the ' 

vesper hymn, 
As its swelling notes float upward, through 

the twilight soft and dim ; 
Outward, through the blue celestial, tread the 

stars their jewelled way, 
While in robes of gold, and purple, twilight 

folds the weary day. 



86 The Old Family Cradle, 

Still they sang old songs, and ballads, full of 
sweetness, full of thought. 

Till it seemed their human voices angel-mel- 
ody had caught; 

Placidly the eve sailed onward, o'er that sea 
of inward light. 

And the day of glorious dawning ended with 
a sweet " Good-night." 

Charmed beyond "a mortal's telling" the Re- 
cording Angel stood. 

Then upon the page unspotted traced the 
simple record Good. 

Instantly a thrill of pleasure ran throughout 
that seraph band 

As he closed his book and mounted with the 
treasure in his hand. 



The Old Family Cradle, 

For years it had stood in my father's old hall, 
A time-honored, love-serving friend to us all ; 



The Old Family Cradle. '^'] 

A faithful old servant ! Ah ! who will e'er 

know 
How boundless a love its great heart could 

bestow ? 
It rocked away trouble, it dried every tear, 
Assuaged every sorrow and calmed every fear. 
No plumes waved aloft Hke a helmeted crest: 
No ornaments hung from its homely recess; 
No white satin curtains enfolded its bed, 
Yet soft was the pillow where nestled each 

head. 
Ten little forms it had pillowed with care ; 
Ten golden heads had slept peacefully there. 
Death came at last; and though short was 

his stay. 
The cradle was empty for many a day : 
Three little fledgelings had gone from the 

nest 
To be rocked by the angels in heaven to 

rest. 
Our mother in silence kissed meekly the rod, 
And trustfully gave back these treasures to 

God. 



88 The Old Family Cradle. 

Years passed away, and the cradle no more 
Echoed its chimes on the carpetless floor; 
With rockers well worn and the paint turning 

The cradle showed symptoms of wear and 

decay. 
Away to the attic this treasure was borne, 
Weakened, but not of its usefulness shorn, 
And there it is lying, far under the eaves, 
'Mid the patter of rain and the rustling of 

leaves. 
Though covered with cobwebs and painted 

with dust. 
We treasure it still as a sacred trust : 
Faithful and true in the course it has run, 
We cherish it still for the good it has done ; 
And though years may pass we shall ever re- 
call 
The cradle that stood in my father's old hall. 



Reconciled, 89 

Reconciled. 

O YEARS gone down into the past ! 

What pleasant memories come to me 
Of your untroubled days of peace 

And hours of almost ecstasy ! 

Yet would I have no moon stand still 
Where life's most pleasant valleys lie, 

Nor wheel the planet of the day 

Back on his pathway through the sky. 

For though, when youthful pleasures died, 
My youth itself went with them too, 

To-day — ay ! even this very hour — 
Is the best hour I ever knew. 

Not that my Father gives to me 

More blessings than in days gone by. 

Dropping in my uplifted hands 

All things for which I blindly cry, 

But that His plans and purposes 

Have grown to me less strange and dim ; 



90 



Reconciled. 



And where I cannot understand, 
I trust the issues unto Him. 

And spite of many broken dreams, 
This have I truly learned to say, 

Prayers which I thought unanswered once, 
Were answered in God's own best way. 

And though some hopes I cherished once 
Perished untimely in their birth, 

Yet have I been beloved and blest 
Beyond the measure of my worth. 

And sometimes, in my hours of grief. 

For moments I have come to stand 
Where, in the sorrows on me laid, 

I felt the chastening of God's hand. 

Then learned I that the weakest ones 
Are kept securest from life's harms, 

And that the tender lambs alone 
Are carried in the Shepherd's arms. 



Reconciled. 9 1 

And sitting by the wayside blind, 

He is the nearest to the Hght 
Who crieth out most earnestly, 
" Lord, that I might receive my sight !" 

O feet grown weary as you walk ! 

When down life's hill my pathway lies, 
What care I, while my soul can mount 

As the young eagle mounts the skies? 

O eyes with weeping faded out! 

What matters it how dim ye be? 
My inner vision sweeps untired 

The reaches of eternity. 

O death, most dreaded power of all ! 

When the last moment comes, and thou 
Darkenest the windows of my soul. 

Through which I look on nature now, 



•fc>' 



Yea, when mortality dissolves. 

Shall I not meet thine hour unawed ? 

My house eternal in the heavens 
Is lighted by the smile of God. 



92 The Heart hioweth its Bitterness, 



The Heart knoweth its own 
Bitterness. 

Tell not thy secret grief! 
It may be that thy brother's heart can feel 
Sorrow for suffering that thy words reveal, 

And give thy heart relief; 
But soon his ear will weary of a tale 
Too oft repeated ; then of no avail 
The lengthened story of thy secret ill ; 
Bear on in silence, suffer and be still. 



Yes, we must bear alone. 
Hard lesson, this, for the young heart to learn 
Seeking for sympathy in every turn. 

In every friendly tone ; 
But when the task is learned, although with 

tears, 
The heart gives up the hopes of early years; 
Though anguish may its very life-cords wring, 
Still gains it strength by its own suffering. 



Silence tmder Trials. 93 

It is the common lot. 
None know the hidden soul save Him whose 

eye 
Looks through each dark recess, for ever nigh, 

Though we behold Him not. 
Yes, it was by His own. His holy will 
That wants too deep for human love to fill 
Should to our thirsting spirits here be given. 
That we the living stream might seek in heaven. 



Silence under Trials. 

When words or acts, untrue, unkind. 
Against thy life like arrows fly, 

Receive them with a patient mind; 
Seek 7to revenge, make no reply. 

Oh, holy Silence ! 'Tis the shield 

More strong than warrior's twisted mail; 

A hidden strength, a might concealed, 
Which worldly shafts in vain assail. 



94 The Tempest-tossed, 

He who is silent in his cause 

Has left that cause to heavenly arms, 

And Heaven's eternal aid and laws 

Are swift to ward the threatening harms. 

God is our great protecting power: 
Be still! the great Defender moves; 

He watches well the dangerous hour, 
Nor fails to save the child He loves. 



The Tempest-tossed. 

A SIMILE. 

There came a stately vessel 

Careering o'er the deep, 
Her helm unwatched, her pilot 

Upon the deck asleep; 
Her tall masts piled with canvas 

Distended on the breeze. 
And twilight's mazy shadows 

Enclose the rippling seas. 



The Tempest-tossed, 95 

But, lo ! a distant tempest 

Rises darkly in the west, 
And deep-toned muttered thunder, 

Disturbing Nature's rest; 
Yet still the pilot slumbers : 

He sees not in his dream 
The darkened brow of Neptune, 

The lightning's lurid gleam. 



On speeds the noble vessel 

In the wind-god's fearful power. 
No hand to furl her canvas. 

To meet the trying hour; 
She cleaves the mountain billow 

Amid a foaming wreath, 
Racked as the stricken giant 

In the mighty throes of death. 



Each sailor's eye grows dizzy; 

His arm has lost its power. 
Ah, Bacchus! woe the seamen 

Who revel in thy bower! 



96 The Tempest-tossed, 

At length the pilot wakens; 

He hears the deafening roar; 
The storm-lashed gleam of ocean 

Reveals an iron shore. 



He sees the good ship fated 

As the martyr at the stake, 
Destruction in her pathway, 

The tempest in her wake; 
E'en now she madly tosses 

When the surf runs wild and high, 
But the pilot watches calmly 

With a seaman's practised eye. 



He steals the favored moment 

As the bark leaps down the wave, 
Then, calm, yet firm and steady^ 

The mighty impulse gave. 
As when the whirlwind free. 

In firm, terrific mood, 
Grasps the towering tree 

In the dark Brazilian wood. 



The Tempest 'tossed. 97 

Thus writhes that queenly vessel 

In the elemental strife, 
But, faithful to her rudder, 

She leaps from death to life ; 
Beside the roaring breakers. 

Her deck deluged with spray, 
And every timber creaking. 

She ploughs her fearful way. 



Once more she rides the ocean, 

A Naiad of the deep. 
And wind and wave their vigils 

In pensive silence keep : 
Had not the pilot wakened, 

Beneath the ocean wave 
That vessel and her seamen 

Had found a watery grave. 



Thus on life's stormy ocean 

The mind is tempest-tossed : 

If the pilot, Reason, slumber, 

The bark is idly lost. 
7 



gS Waiting. 

At times, when all is gladness, 
And pleasure lights the eye, 

A shade will gloom the spirit 
As the tempest clouds the sky. 



Waiting. 



She is waiting, while the shadows lengthen 

o'er the harvest-field, 
Where long years of patient toil all their 

ripened fruitage yield — 

Waiting, till the solemn whisper thrills through 
all the golden leaves, 

" Daughter, come home !" For this she's wait- 
ing all among the harvest sheaves. 

Many years they toiled together, she and he 

she loved so well. 
Sowing all their seed together, watching it to 

ripeness swell — 



Waiting. 99 

Sowing seeds of love, and patience, each with 
an unsparing hand, 

Wheresoe'er the Master bade them scatter, 
through the barren land. 



In the morning's early glory, when their hearts 

with hope beat high, 
And all glittering with the dewdrops lay the 

field before their eye. 
When their mutual love was rosy with fond 

youth's romantic glow, 
Hand in hand close clasped together, forth 

they passed the seed to sow. 

As the day grew warm and heavy, with thg 

noon's o'erwhelming heat 
On they hastened, never staying to repose their 

weary feet; 
Hand in hand but clasped the closer for the 

fiery trial near, 
Side by side they trod together, sharing every 

smile and tear. 



I oo Waiting, 

Through the sunshine, through the shadow, 
over flowers, over thorns, 

By the graves of parted angels whom the 
soul in secret mourns, 

Hand in hand but closer folded, these two 
faithful ones went on 

Through the nodding sheaves of harvest, on- 
ward to the setting sun. 



But on one the Master, smiling in His great 

love gently down 
The slant rays, said very softly, " Come up 

here to me, my son !" 
And he left her lingering, "waiting," till the 

summons comes again, 
1*0 endure a little longer, all the loneliness, 

the pain. 



Blessed fate to whom the sunlight through the 

gently-falling leaves 
Shows the rich, abundant harvest and the 

closely-garnered sheaves — 



Old Letters. loi 

Who, ere yet to heaven passing, pauses for a 

little while 
To reflect on those about her somewhat of 

God's loving smile. 



Old Letters. 



One hour among my treasures ! Oh, 'tis sweet 

To turn a while from present cares, 

And pass an hour amid these gems, 

Which I have gathered in life's way 

Since, in youth's bright morning, my little heart 

First understood such words 

As parting, absence, sorrow, and vain hope ; 

Till noiv that I have gained the rugged steep 

Of life's meridian, whence the earnest eye 

Looks dozvn the path, which hath no bourne 

Except the quiet grave. 

Some^ whose pledges of a never-dying love 
Perfume these faded leaflets of their souls, 
Have gone down there to sleep, and I have 
wept 



I02 Old Letters, 

And counted them all lost, but 'tis not so, 

The truthful breathings of their souls 

Live in these little sheets, where, here and 

there, 
A tear warm from the heart 
Lies where it fell, more precious than the 

pearl 
That's purchased with a kingdom. 

Fresh and sweet 
The leaves of the unwilted flower of truth 
Are all before me. 

Where are the hands that wrote these lines 
So many years ago ? Where the eyes 
That bent their beams along the rapid tra- 
cery? 
Where the hearts that throbbed with tenderness 
Or trembled with emotion? 
Years, and change, and death, can ye not an- 
swer? 

No reply. 
Death, and change, and Time are silent spoil- 
ers : 



Old Letters. 103 

Yet none of these can touch the pure affec- 
tions of -the soul, 

That God has made immortal, 

And which live for ever in these written 
sheets. 

Sing ! sing ye on, sweet faithful memories ! 

'Tis sweet to dream 

That those who led our infant feet in good 

and pleasant ways ; 
Who brought us, while our hearts were yet 

untouched 
By tJiis world's mildew, to a Saviour's feet ; 
Who bore us in the arms of earnest prayer 
Up to the throne of heaven ; 
Who led the way, and left their footprints 
All along the path of peace which leads to 

God;— 
'Tis sweet to dream that they are watching 

with their loving eyes 
Our struggles with the spirits that would lure 

our faltering steps 
To their enticincf bowers. 



I04 Old Letters. 

Oh, 'tis good to lean upon them then, and 

ask our hearts 
If they approve our words and deeds. 

Dear guardians of my childhood. 
Ye are my guardians still ; 
Your loving words of sweet encouragement, 
Of kind advice, of earnest sympathy, of mild 

reproof, 
Of spiritual communion, — they are here 
To aid, uphold, and solace, when most I am 

in need; 
They bring you very near, and ye point to 

that far land 
Where " living waters " flow, and joy-buds 

bloom for ever. 

**Your ever-loving mother"! 

Blessed words, 

Almost effaced with tears, which dim mine 
eyes 

Whene'er they rest upon that signature 

Written by the hand which was my provi- 
dence in infancy and childhood, 



Old Letters. 105 

That directed first my young eyes unto hea- 
ven ; 

That led me forth among the glorious works 
of Nature's God, 

And, pointing to the pure and beautiful, 

Taught me to love and worship : 

That sustained my weakness with unwearied 
tenderness ; 

That made my bed in sickness, lifted up my 
aching head. 

And held to my hot lips the cup of heal- 
ing; 

Who has done for me that which no other 
hand has done — 

That which no other hand on earth can do. 

My loving mother, thou art far away ; 

I may not clasp thy hand or hear thy voice, 

But I can read these letters. 

Mother, dear mother! though we dwell apart. 

Thy loving words are with me evermore ; 

I cannot recompense thy love. 

But thy reward is sure, for thou hast done 
thy duty well. 



io6 Old Letters. 

And we rise up and call thee blessed, 
While the Lord -will give thy pious cares and 
labors rich reward. 

My brother and my sister! 
These are yours, 
And they are fragrant with the love which 

hath its source 
At the one spring of human tenderness. 
Oh, 'tis sweet to taste again this love, 
Until the heart goes back to that most holy 

refuge this side heaven. 
Our father's house ! 
Oh, sweet the echoes come from that dear 

sanctuary ! 
How pleasantly they touch my heartstrings noiv. 
To melting music mellowed down by Time 

to plaintive sweetness ! 

Oh, Long-ago! Those days are gone; 

And we are scattered like the leaves of some 

fair rose 
That fall off one by one upon the breeze, 
Which bears them where it listcth ; 



Old Lettei^s, 107 

Nevermore can they be gathered and become 
a rose, 

And we can be united nevermore, 

A family on earth. 

However carelessly 

Or thoughtfully we touch the string that cho- 
ruses 

The music of the past, it answers still, 

" No more !" 

But adieu, 
Sweet treasures ! 

The cares of life, a stern and clamorous throng, 
Are waking now. Go to your sanctuary 
Till again I seek your kind communing and 

soft balm. 
Which soothe my heart into a meek and grate- 
ful frame. 
Which sits down patiently at Jesus' feet. 



1 08 Thoughts of Age, 



Thoughts of Age. 

Shall old age come upon me ? Shall my eye 

Grow dim and weak, and tremulous my hand ? 
Shall the glad music of my spirit die 

Before I pass into the spirit-land ? 
Shall I forget the songs I love to sing 

Nor heed the beauties of this lovely world ? 
Shall many a bright and pleasant thing 

Grow charmless ? When the wing of youth 
is furled, 
Shall I grow weary of my home below 

And be for ever longing to depart ? 
And shall the lines that deepen on my brow 

Be but the shadows of a changed heart ? 
All may be so! I cannot know my lot: 

It may be age, and weariness, and care; 
But oh, I trust that Memory may not 

Prove traitor to her trust, for she doth bear 
The golden key that only can undo 

The treasure-house of thought. If that be 
lost. 



Thoughts of Age, 109 

Old age indeed is desolate, and few 

The joys by which its way is crossed. 
And there are memories I would retain 

E'en when the hand of Time hath marked 
my face, 
And scenes which I in thought would view 
again 
When far removed from hours of youth may 
be my dwelling-place. 
But why thus muse upon the time to come ? 
Why dream of drooping age with furrowed 
brow ? 
May not the young flower wither in its bloom, 

The seeds of death be planted even now ? 
Who knoweth if this frail frame may withstand 
The chilling blights and storms of many 
years ? 
If it be so, one simple prayer be mine : 

If life's young blossom wither ere its noon, 
Be mine the holy trust and love divine 
Which maketh early death a blessed boon. 



1 1 o Love the Old, 

Love the Old. 

I LOVE the old — to lean beside 

The antique easy-chair, 
And pass my fingers softly o'er 

A wreath of silvered hair; 
To press my glowing lips upon 

The furrowed brow, and gaze 
Within the sunken eye where dwells 

The " light of other days ;" 

To fold the pale and feeble hand 

That on my youthful head 
Has laid so tenderly the while 

The evening prayer was said ; 
To nestle down close to the heart, 

And marvel how it held 
Such tomes of legendary lore, 

The chronicles of eld. 

O youth ! tlwit hast so miicJi of joy, 
So much of life and love. 

So many hopes ; age has but one — 
The hope of bliss above. 



Love the Old. 1 1 1 

Then turn awhile from these away 

To cheer the old, and bless 
The wasted heart-spring, with a stream 

Of gushing tenderness. 



Thou treadeth now a path of bloom, 

And thy exulting soul 
Springs proudly on, as though it mocked 

At times unfelt control. 
But tJiey have marched a weary way 

Upon a thorny road; 
Then soothe the toil-worn spirits, ere 

They pass away to God. 

Yes, love the aged ; bow before 

The venerable form 
So soon to seek beyond the sky 

A shelter, from the storm ; 
Ay, love them ; let thy silent heart 

With reverence unfold ; 
As pilgrims very near to heaven 

Regard and love the old. 



1 1 2 My Good Old-fashioned Mother, 
Mother. 

They tell us of an Indian tree 

Which howsoe'er the sun and sky 
May tempt its boughs to wander free, 

And shoot, and blossom, wide and high, 
Far better loves to bend its arms 

Downward again, to that dear earth 
From which the life that fills, and warms 

Its grateful being, first had birth. 

'Tis thus, though wooed by flattering friends, 
And fed with fame (if fame it be), 

This heart, my own dear mother, bends 
With love's true instinct back to thee. 



My Good Old-fashioned Mother. 

They brought home the portrait last night to 
me ; 

On the parlor wall it is hung : 
I gave to the artist a picture small, 

Which was taken when she was young ; 



My Good Old-fashioned Mother. 1 1 3 

It is true to life, with a look in the eyes 

I never saw in another, 
And the same sweet smile she always wore : 

'Tis my good old-fashioned mother. 

The hair in the picture is wavy and dark : 

'Twas taken before she was gray; 
And the same short curls at the side hang down, 

For she always wore it that way. 
Her hand on the Bible easily rests, 

As when, with sisters, and brother, 
I knelt at her knee reciting my verse 

To my good old-fashioned mother. 

Her dress is plain, and quite out of style ; 

Not a puff, or a ruffle is there ; 
And no jewels or gold glitter and shine : 

She never had any to wear. 
Ambition for wealth, or love of display 

We could not even discover, 
For " poor in spirit " and " humble in heart " 

Was my good old-fashioned mother. 

Her life was crowned with work, and with care ; 
How did she accomplish it all ? 



1 1 4 My Mothers Face. 

I do not remember she ever complained, 
And yet she was slender, and small. 

Motives of life that were selfish and wrong 
With Christian grace did she smother. 

And lived for her God, the loved ones at home, 
My good old-fashioned mother. 

The years of her life were only threescore 

When the messenger whispered low, 
" The Master hath come, and calleth for thee ;" 

She answered, *' I am ready to go." 
I gaze alone on her portrait to-night, 

And more than ever I love her. 
And thank the Lord that He gave to me 

Such a good old-fashioned mother. 



My Mother's Face. 

There's a face more beautiful far to me 
Than the fairest of fair ones ever can be. 
Be it perfect and true with its lines of grace. 
Be it man's or maiden's, or sweet child-face. 



My Mother's Face. 1 1 5 

Once it was lovely, and young, and fair, 
Crowned by tresses of soft brown hair, 
And the happy soul, with its changing light, 
Looked from her hazel eyes, tender and bright. 

Once the high brow was as white as the 

snows. 
And the soft cheek flushed with the daintiest 

rose, 
And many a suitor has tried in vain 
A smile from those ruby lips to gain. 

But Time, with his paints and brushes 7iozu 
Has tinted with amber the chin, and brow; 
The hair has forgotten its sunny glow, 
And shows 'mid its meshes, long lines of 
snow. 

Dark care and sorrow, with toil and pain. 
Rough hands on the beautiful face have lain, 
And tears that came as death drew nigh 
Have tarnished the rose and dimmed the eye. 

Yet / love it, and think it is more than fair. 
For faith, hope, love and truth are there : 



ii6 My Mother's Face, 

When, fevered and helpless, long weeks I've 

lain. 
It has cheered and hallowed my bed of pain, 

Has soothed and banished my childish fears, 
Has laughed with my laughing, and wept with 

my tears; 
With its look of patience in pain and loss, 
It has taught me patient to bear my cross. 

Loved because chastened, each stroke to take 
Cheerfully, bravely, for Jesus* sake ; 
Oh, lovelier far than the fairest can be 
Is my mother's loving face to me. 

Ah ! my poor heart shrinks, and the hot tears 

fall 
As I think of the time, that must come to all, 
When the waving grass, and the daisies bright 
May hide her dear face from my longing 

sight ; 

Though perhaps my Father, in His merciful 

love, '' 

Will take me first to my home above; 



My Mother, 117 

Then by the gates of the golden street 

I will wait for the sound of her coming feet. 

I will lean o'er the portal of heaven, to see 
If up through the starlight she's coming to 

me. 
But, if in His wisdom He calls her now, 
Placing Death's seal on her placid brow, 

I know, when the years of her life are passed, 
And my tired soul enters her home at last. 
That close by the throne of heavenly grace 
I shall see in its beauty my mother's face. 



My Mother. 



Time's tide hath borne me far away 

From the green banks my childhood knew, 

Hath mingled with my locks the gray. 
And from life's roses dashed the dew, 

But hath not quenched the faintest trace 
Of memories which my heart beguile, 

Nor from my soul can Time efface 

My mother's smile. 



ii8 My Mother. 

In childhood's gay and gladsome hour, 
Blithe as a bird in sunny ray, 

I gayly roved from flower to flower, 

And deemed life one long summer day; 

But one deep joy, remembered now. 
Then filled my heart with purest bliss : 

It thrills as erst on cheek and brow — 
My mother's kiss. 



Whene'er my wayward footsteps turned 
From paths of rectitude astray. 

Or my young heart with anger burned, 
Forgetful of the better way, 

I might have spurned the harsh rebuke. 
From words of counsel turned my ear. 

But not a moment could I brook 

My mother's tear. 



Old Time with me hath kindly dealt. 
And spared full many a treasure, 

And scattered blessings not unfelt 
With overflowing measure; 



Oin^ MotJie7\ 119 

And one like tone of vesper bell 

Still lingers, viewless, on the air, 
And haunts me like a holy spell — 

My mother's prayer. 



Our Mother. 



We miss thee, O our Mother dear! 

And yet how much we cannot say, 
For since thy voice no more we hear, 

A gloom around our hearthstone lay; 
For now, when evening shades appear, 

And we in social circle meet. 
Our eyes fill up with many a tear 

To see thy loved yet vacant seat. 
Alas ! it looks so sad and lone, 
And tells us. Mother, thou art gone. 

I think I see thy placid smile, 

As when we once beheld thee there, 

So patient, knitting all the while. 
And chatting, in that old arm-cliair. 



I20 Oitr AIolhc7\ 

Each gentle look thou gavest then 
Is treasured in fond memory deep, 

For there are sacred moments when 
I love to think of thee and weep ; 

For all is dreary now, and lone. 

And tells us, Mother, thou art gone. 

How oft affection calls to mind, 

When pain and sickness venture near, 
Thy tender, soothing accents kind. 

Which strove our drooping hearts to cheer! 
Thy hand touched light our fevered brow 

And smoothed the pillow with such care ! 
Alas ! alas ! 'tis not so now 

When we the pangs of suffering bear. 
Nay, nay! all now is dread and lone. 
And tells us, Mother, thou art gone. 



How oft, when silence reigns around 

And dreamy thoughts come looming o'er, 

We almost think we hear the sound 
Of thy dear footstep on the floor! 



Grandmother s Sermon. 1 2 1 

For still it seems it cannot be 

That thou must absent e'er remain ; 

We fain look fondly round for thee, 
And list to hear thy voice again. 

But no — ah, no ! We are alone. 

And feel, dear Mother, thou art gone. 



GRANDMOTHER'S SeRMON. 

The supper is over, the hearth is swept. 

And in the wood-fire's glow 
The children cluster to hear a tale 

Of that time, so long ago, 

When grandma's hair was golden-brown. 
And the warm blood came and went 

O'er the face that was scarcely sweeter then 
Than now, in its rich content. 



The face is wrinkled and careworn now, 

And the golden hair is gray; 
But the light that shone in the young girl's eyes 

Has never gone away; 



122 Grandmothers Sermon. 

And her needles catch the fire's bright hght 

As in and out they go. 
With the cHcking music that grandma loves, 

Shaping the stocking toe. 

And the waiting children love it too, 
For they know the stocking song 

Brings many a tale to grandma's mind 
Which they shall hear ere long. 

But it brings no story of the olden time 

To grandma's heart to-night; 
Only a sermon, quaint and short, 

Is sung by the needles bright. 

" Life is a stocking," grandma says, 

"And yours is just begun; 
But I am knitting the toe of mine, 

And my work is almost done. 

" With merry hearts we begin to knit, 
And the ribbing is almost play ; 



Grandmother's Se7^mon. i 

Some are gay-colored, and some are white, 

And some are ashen gray. 
But most are made of many a hue, 

With many a stitch set wrong, 
And many a row to be sadly ripped 

Ere the whole is fair and strong. 



" There are long plain spaces without a break 
That in youth are hard to bear ; 

And many a weary tear is dropped 
As we fashion the heel with care. 



" But the saddest, happiest time is that 
Which we court, and yet would shun, 

When our heavenly Father breaks the thread, 
And says that, our w^ork is done." 



The children come to say good-night 
With tears in their bright young eyes, 

While in grandma's lap, with a broken thread. 
The finished stocking lies. 



124 Coining, 



Coming. 

What I say unto you I say unto all, Watch. — Mark xiii. 

21- 

At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in 
the morning. 

" It may be in the evening", 

When the work of the day is done, 
And you have time to sit in the twilight 

And watch the sinking sun. 
While the long bright day dies slowly 

Over the sea, 
And the hour grows quiet and holy 

With thoughts of me. 
While you hear the village children 

Passing along the street. 
Among those thronging footsteps 

May come the sound of my feet. 
Therefore I tell you, Watch 

By the light of the evening star, 
When the room is growing dusky 

As the clouds afar: 



Coming. 12S 

Let the door be on the latch 

In your home, 
For it may be through the gloaming 

I will come. 

•' It may be when the midnight 

Is heavy upon the land, 
And the black waves lying dumbly 

Along the sand; 
When the moonless night draws close 
And the lights are out in the house; 

When the fires burn low and red 
And the watch is ticking loudly 

Beside the bed; 
Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, 
Still your heart must wake and watch 

In the dark room. 
For it may be that at midnight 

I will come. 

'It may be at the cock-crow, 
When the night is dying slowly 

In the sky, 
And the sea looks calm and holy, 



126 Commg. 

Waiting for the dawn of the golden sun, 

Which draweth nigh ; 
When the mists are on the valleys, shading 

The rivers chill, 
And my morning star is fading, fading. 

Over the hill. 
Behold, I say unto you, Watch ! 
Let the door be on the latch 

In your home; 
In the chill before the dawning, 
Between the night and morning, 

I mav come. 



*' It may be in the morning, 
When the sun is bright and strong, 
And the dew is glittering sharply 

Over the little lawn ; 
When the waves are laughing loudly 

Along the shore, 
And the little birds are singing sweetly 

About the door. 
With the long day's work before you, 

You rise up with the sun, 



Coming. 1 2 7 

And the neighbors come in to talk a httle 

Of all that must be done; 
But remember that I may be the next 

To come in at the door, 
To call you from all your busy work 

For evermore. 
As you work your heart must watch, 
For the door is on the latch 

In your room, 
And it may be in the morning 

I will come." 



So He passed down my cottage garden 
By the path that leads to the sea, 

Till He came to the turn of the little road. 
Where the birch and laburnum tree 

Lean over and arch the way. 

There I saw Him a moment stay 
And turn once more to me 
As I wept at the cottage door. 

And lift up his hands in blessing ; 
Then I saw His face no more. 



128 Coming. 

And I stood still in the doorway, 

Leaning against the wall, 
Not heeding the fair white roses, 

Thouo^h I crushed them and let them 
fall, 
Only looking down the pathway. 

And looking toward the sea. 
And wondering and wondering 

When He would come back for me. 
Till I was aware of an angel 

Who was going swiftly by 
With the gladness of one who goeth 

In the light of God most high. 
He passed the end of the cottage, 

Toward the garden gate 
(I suppose he was come down 
At the setting of the sun 
To comfort some one in the village 

Whose dwelling was desolate), 
And he passed before the door 

Beside my place. 
And the likeness of a smile 

Was on his face. 



Coming, 1 29 

"Weep not," he said, "for unto you is given 
To watch for the coming of His feet 
Who is the glory of our blessed heaven ; 
The work and watching will be very sweet, 
Even in an earthly home, 
And in such an hour as ye think not 
He will come." 

So I am watching quietly 

Every day; 
Whenever the sun shines brightly, 

I rise and say, 
" Surely it is the shining of His face !" 
And look unto the gates of His high place 

Beyond the sea, 
For I know He is coming shortly 

To summon me. 
And when a shadow falls across the window 

Of my room. 
Where I am working my appointed task, 
I lift my head to watch the door and ask 

If He is come ; 
And the angel answers sweetly 

In my home. 



1 30 The Stmset of Life. 

" Only a few more shadows, 
And He will come." 



T//E Sunset of Life. 

Evening crept along the valley, 

Blushed upon the distant hill. 
And the golden hush of sunset 

Fell so sweetly and so still 
That the meadow, and the mountain. 

And the ocean's heaving breast, 
Seemed to bathe themselves in sunlight 

From the windows of the west. 

Parting gleams, so gay and golden, 

Streamed across the white and blue, 
Till the clouds 'mid azure heaven 

Melted in the blushing hue. 
And it fell, that golden glory, 

On the ripples of the sea. 
Dancing, dazzling, ever wreathing 

Smiles so glorious and free. 



The Sunset of Life, i 

And the struggling of the sunshine, 

Straying through the hfting trees, 
Smiled upon a leaf-hid cottage 

Opened to invite the breeze ; 
And two wavy, glimmering sunbeams, 

Meeting in the open door, 
One from heaven and one from ocean, 

Lit the ceiling and the floor. 

In the meeting of the sunlight, 

Where its glory kissed his brow. 
Sat an old man on the threshold, 

Thinking of bygone and now ; 
On his staff his hands were folded. 

And he rested there his chin. 
While his face, with sweet expression, 

Told the peace that reigned within. 

Still he sat, intently gazing. 

Through the aisles of arching green. 
Out upon the glorious vista 

In the mellow distance seen. 
Listening to the murmuring music 

Of the wind and gentle waves. 



1 3 2 The Simset of Life. 

Like approving ages calling 

To the present from their graves. 

Years of labor lent their voices 

To the harmony within, 
Deeds of love and duty chiming 

With a conscience void of sin — 
Heavenly sounds of holy grandeur, 

Such as earth's may never be, 
Heard he as he sat there gazing 

Out upon the sun and sea. 

And the sun went sinking downward, 

And his soul rose nearer home, 
Drinking deep of healing waters 

Flowing from the heavenly dome; 
Then the holy star of twilight. 

Flinging dews upon the air. 
Throned itself upon the sunset 

Like a spirit reigning there. 

As the star, with light unbroken, 
Gazed into his raptured eyes, 



The Sunset of Life. 133 

With its pencil-beams descending 
Came a message from the skies, 

And the angels' gentle voicings, 
Stealing sweetly from above, 

Drew his soul still up and heavenward 
On the wings of light and love. 

Then the sun beyond the ocean 

Gathered in his rays to rest, 
As a noble chief in falling 

Folds his honors to his breast; 
Outward sense and scenes were fading 

With the sinking of the sun, 
But, within, those angel-voices 

Spoke eternal day begun. 

Fading lights, still failing, dying. 

Gilt the edges of the cloud. 
Till the moonbeams fell upon them ; 

Like the stillness of a shroud. 
And the tints grew gray and leaden 

As the flushing followed down 
Where the sun, when in the heaven. 

Last had worn his golden crown. 



134 ^^^^ Sunset of Life. 

As the moonlight softly slumbered 

Where was once the sunbeams' fall, 
Round the old man closed the shadows 

With their dark and deepening pall, 
Still upon his staff he rested 

With his weary, wintry head; 
Gone was all the golden glory, 

Day was done — the old man dead. 

Who shall say how pure a vision 

Rests upon that spirit's eyes, 
Changing sunshine into soul-light, 

Faded to unfading skies? 
Who can know how sweet that sunset, 

Shadowing forth the gates of gold. 
Which unto his soul unfolded 

Heaven to earth, is yet untold. 



The Spirit of Consolation. 135 



The Spirit of Consolation. 

Where dost thou dwell, O spirit whom my 
heart 
Yearns for, and knows, through Nature's 

varying voice ? 
Where is the region favored by thy choice ? 
I've watched the ocean-billows sink and swell 
Beneath eve's tender hues, and the stars rise 

In quiet beauty through the evening air ; 
Searching for thee, I've sought the sea and skies : 
Thou wert not there. 

Fve h'stened for thee in the awful tone 

Of wind-swayed pines, that mock the angry 

sea; 
At the first chirp of birds I've watched for 
thee ; 
While the day dawned, above the hills alone 
I marked the folds of mist creep slowly up, 
While higher still the glorious sun arose, 
Drinking the sparkling dew-drops from the cup 
Of buddinsf rose. 



136 The Spirit of Consolation. 

Where dost thou dwell ? No vision like to thine, 
So glorious, so terrible in might, 
Has ever beamed upon my mental sight: 
There have been times when clouds were in 
my sky, 
And I have wept through sleepless hours 
of night. 
When, tender spirit ! thou hast brooded nigh, 
Unseen of sight. 

Then, in the awfulness and love that spread 
O'er my sad soul, drawing from earth away 
To purer realms, I felt thy mighty sway 

As the fair moon draws upward from his bed 

The ocean tide. Such hours have a peace 
The garish blaze of joy has never knov/n ; 

Beneath thy voice earth's ruder clamors cease. 
Thou, and the soul alone. 



II. 



FRIENDSHIP, 



FRIENDSHIP 



To MY Friends. 



Friends of mine, beloved, and cherished, 
Ye have been with me to-day, 

And the golden light of memory 
Softly on your faces lay; 

And for your pleasure, gathered here 

Are the thoughts of many a year. 

And as ye turn the pages over, 

Wheresoever you may be. 
Let your thoughts with tender kindness 

Turn a little unto me. 
While we think of days of yore 
And our friends who've gone before. 

139 



1 40 Friendship. 

Friends of mine, not lightly chosen, 
Ye have been with me to-day, 

And I bless your treasured memories, 
That have smoothed life's rugged way; 

For amid earth's dearest things 

Is surely Love, without his wings. 



Friendship. 



There is a Sunbeam, beautifully shining 
Through dark clouds, with care and sorrow 
rife ; 

There is a Rose-wreath, delicately twining 
Among the brambles, in the path of life. 

There is a sweet bird, exquisitely singing, t 
Albeit rude thorns upon her bosom press ; 

There is a fountain, musically springing 
From the cold rocks of life's wilderness. 

There is a fair orb to this world pertaining, 
Which strives full meekly with the gloom 
of night. 



Friendship, 141 

But all its beauty, all its radiance, gaining 
From the great Source of universal light. 

Is it not Friendship, that delightful feeling 
All human griefs, all human joys, abov^e? 

But mostWts purest, tenderest charms revealing 
When stamped and softened with the form 
of Love. 

Oh, 'tis the Sunbeam, mercifully lighting 
Hope's glorious rainbow, on the clouds of 
woe; 
'Tis the sweet Rose-wreath, the tired eye in- 
viting, 
That hides the harshness of the thorn be- 
low. 

'Tis the sweet bird, her cheering aid bestow- 
ing 
On others' griefs, unmindful of her own; 
'Tis the clear streamlet, in the desert flowing, 
That springs most purely, from the hardest 
stone. 



142 Gra?tt me, O God, a Star to be. 

Tis the bright planet, whose benign attend- 
ance 
Doth half our darkness, and our fears re- 
move. 
But borrows att its beautiful resplendence 
From the high essence of a God .of Love. 



Grant me, O God, a Star to be. 

Grant me O God, a little star to be. 

Calm, still, and bright, to trace my way in 
Heaven ; 
And shed my light o'er life's tempestuous sea, 
Where human hearts like fragile barks are 
driven 
'Mid rocks and hidden shoals; 
A soul, 'mid glorious souls; 

A small bright star, within the glittering band, 
That high above the clouds, undimmed and 
grand. 
In placid beauty rolls 

To herald on the weary, to the land 



To my Friends, 143 

Where all is rest, and peace; to guide the 

way 
To Heaven's unclouded day. 



To MY Friends. 



I WOULD not stay for ever here, 

In a world of care and pain ; 
I would not have life linger on. 

Or give my thoughts to earth again. 
I long to close my tearful eyes, 

And rest my weary, aching head 
Upon the couch, where all is peace 

And stillness, with the early dead. 

/ do not fear to look on Death, 

From whose approach no power can save; 
No serpent sting is in his grasp. 

Nor disappointment in the grave. 
How sweet to sleep on some green bank 

Where summer breezes gently blow. 
The deep and glad blue sky above, 

And graceful fcrn-lcavcs wave below / 



144 ^^^^ ^^^y Burden, 

And if some gentle step should come 

With fern-leaves in the morning hours, 
Oh, welcome would the offering be, 

For I have dearly loved these flowers. 
Perchance my spirit, freed from pain^ 

Might linger round the verdant tomb 
To bless the loving hand that gave. 

And borrow pleasure from their bloom. 

The stars will shine when I am gone 

As they have ever shone before, 
And other eyes will meet their beams 

When / shall wake, and watch, no more. 
Oh, beautiful upon the grave 

The starlight, and the moonbeams lie, 
With such sweet watchers o'er our sleep. 

Why, should we ever fear to die? 



Cast thy Burden. 

" Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain thee." 

Hast thou a care, whose pressure dread 
Expels sweet comfort from thy bed? 



Question Not, 145 

To thy Redeemer take that care, 
And change anxiety to prayer. 

Hast thou a hope, with which thy heart 
Would almost feel it death to part? 
Entreat thy God that hope to crown. 
Or, give thee strength to lay it down. 

Hast thou a friend whose image dear 
May prove an idol worshipped here ? 
Implore the Lord that naught may be 
A shadow y between Heaven and thee. 

Whate'er the care that breaks thy rest, 
Whate'er the wish which swells thy breast. 
Spread before God tJiat wish, that care. 
And change anxiety to prayer. 



Question Not. 

Go thou and watch, and pray, 

Whate'er may be thy lot; 

And cheerfully, from day to day. 

Toil on, but question not. 
10 



146 Do Right. 

The way may oft be strait, 

Our souls in grief be bowed, 
But patiently work on, and wait : 

There's light behind the cloud. 

God's ways are not as ours. 

For so His Word has taught ; 
Then, if thou find more thorns than flowers, 

Press on, and question not. 

Though Friendship's chain be riv^en 

By a loving Father's hand. 
Again it will be joined in heaven, 

Beyond this earthly strand. 

Yes, after darkness light; 

And joy, when grief is o'er; 
Then hope to find the future bright. 

But question nevermore. 



Do Right. 



Go boldly on; do what is right; 
Ask not for private ease or good ; 



Faith. 1 47 

Let one bright star direct thy sight — 
The polar star of rectitude. 

Go boldly on ; and though the road 
Thy weary, bleeding feet shall rend, 

Angels shall help thee bear thy load, 
And God himself thy steps attend. 

Do right, and thou hast naught to fear; 

Right hath a power that makes thee strong; 
The night is dark, but light is near ; 

The grief is short, the joy is long. 

Know, in thy dark and troubled day, 

To friends of truth, and light, are given, 

When strife, and toils, have passed away. 
The sweet rewards, and joys of Heaven. 



Faith. 

Have faith ! 'Twill raise thy soul above 
The fleeting joys of earth, 



1 48 Faith, 

To scenes of sweet unclouded love 

And things of glorious birth ; 
'Twill waft thee on its eagle wing, 

Afar, thy sins forgiven. 
Where loud the echoing anthems ring 

From angel-harps in heaven. 

'Twill wipe away the gathering tear 

And whisper words of peace ; 
'Twill soothe the spirit sorrowing here, 

The burdened conscience ease; 
'Twill beam in rays upon the soul 

More bright than stars of even, 
From skies where clouds can never roll: 

Faith is the light from heaven. 

'Twill bind a wreath of beauty round 

The calm, unruffled brow — 
Rich flowers the joyous heart has found 

Where " living waters " flow. 
Have faith ! 'Twill guide the trembling bark 

Of life when tempest-driven. 
O'er angry waves, through surges dark, 

To peaceful shores in heaven. 



To a Friend. 149 

There, robed in white, before the throne 

Of God the spirit kneels, 
And sings for aye the grace divine 

That blood-bought pardon seals ; 
There bliss immortal ever reigns. 

Nor Friendship's bonds are riven ; 
Oh, sweet the flower that decks those plains, 

The Rose of Love in Heaven. 



To A Friend. 



Hast thou e'er seen a trembling plant, 
Of feeble bloom, and lowly birth, 

Which every passing blast might bend 
In sadness, to its mother Earth, 

Till some kind hand would pierce the shade 
That hid it from the cheering sky ? 

Thifie is that gentle, culturing hand ; 
The weak and trembling plant am /. 

And while that plant of life shall taste, 
And press this earthly spot. 



1 50 Communion, 

The hand that reared it from the waste 
Can never be forgot. 



Communion. 



When far from the hearts where our fondest 
thoughts centre, 
Denied for a time their loved presence to 
share, 
In the spirit we meet, when the closet we en- 
ter, 
And hold sweet Communion together, in 
prayer. 

Oh, fondly I think, as night's curtains sur- 
round them, - 
The Shepherd of Israel tenderly keeps; 
The angels of light are encamping around 
them; 
They are watched by the Eye that ne'er 
slumbers nor sleeps. 



Comm7imon. 1 5 1 

When the voice of the morning once more 
shall awake them, 
And summon them forth to the calls of the 
day, 
I will think of that God who will never for- 
sake them, 
The Friend ever near, though all else be 
away. 

Then why, should one thought of anxiety 

seize us ? / 

Though distance divide us, from those whom 
we love. 
They rest in the covenant mercy of Jesus ; 
Their prayers meet with ours, in the man- 
sions above. 

Oh, sweet bond of Friendship! Whate'er may 
betide us, 
Though on life's stormy billows, our barks 
may be driven. 
Though distance, or trial, or death, may di- 
vide us, 
Eternal reunion awaits us in Heaven. 



152 The l7ivitatio7i. 

The Invitation. 

Come ! — Matt. xi. 28. 

I HAVE a Friend, a precious Friend, unchang- 
ing, wise and true, 

The "Chief among ten thousand;" oh, I wish 
you knew Him too ! 

When all the pains that wait on me relax 
each feeble limb, 

I know who waits to welcome me; have you 
a friend like Him? 

He comforts me, He strengthens me; how 
can I, then, repine ? 

He loveth me! This faithful Friend in life 
and death, is mine. 

I have a Father true and fond : He cares for 

all my needs ; 
His patience bore my faithless ways, my sad 

and foolish deeds ; 
To me He sends sweet messages ; He wait- 

eth but to bless : 
Have yoii a father like to mine in such deep 

tenderness ? 



The Invitation. 153 

For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a 

crown is won; 
I was a rebel once : He calls the rebel child 

His son. 

I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love 
I often grieve ; 

He brings me golden promises my heart can 
scarce receive ; 

He leadeth me, and hope, and cheer, doth for 
my path provide; 

For dreary nights and days of drought have 
yoti so sure a guide? 

Quench not the faintest whisper that the heav- 
enly Dove may bring; 

He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer 
'neath His wing. 

I have a home — a home so bright its beauties 

none can know; 
Its pavement sapphire, and such palms, none 

ever saw below ; 
Its golden streets resound with joy, its pearly 

gates with praise, 



154 The Invitation, 

A temple standeth in the midst no human 
hands could raise; 

And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleas- 
ures never end, 

Who makes that home so glorious? It is my 
loving Friend. 

My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and 

this, our radiant home 
Are offered j/ou. Turn not away; to-day, I 

pray you, '' Come !" * 
My Father yearns to welcome you, His heart, 

His house, to share; 
My Friend is yours, my home is yours ; my 

Guide will lead you there. 
Behold One altogether fair, the faithful, and the 

true ; 
He pleadeth with you for your love. He gave 

His life for you. 

Oh, leave the worthless things you seek, they 

perish in a day, 
Serve now the true and living God ; from 

idols turn away; 



Diffictilties. 1 5 5 

Watch for the Lord who comes to reign ; en- 
ter the open door; 

Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart; 
thou'lt ask it back no more : 

Trust Him for grace, and strength, and love, 
and all thy troubles end; 

Oh, come to Jesus, and you'll find in Him a 
loving Friend. 



Difficulties. 

"This cannot be the rightful path!" a tearful 
pilgrim said. 

As, resting on a wayside stone, she bowed 
her aching head; 

" So rough and toilsome an ascent, where 
thorns distress my feet. 

Where no green pastures glad the eye, nor 
cooling waters meet. 

But all around looks strange, and wild, un- 
trodden save by me, 

Is this the path in which to go ? Oh no ! it 
cannot be !" 



156 Difficulties, 

As thus she thoughtfully complained, a cheer- 
ing voice was heard, 

Soothing, and gentle, as the breeze, with which 
the leaves are stirred; 

"O gentle maiden, hft thy head; repress thy 
burning tears, 

And hush for ever in thy heart, these sad 
complaints and fears. 

Footsore, and faint, thou sittest here, disheart- 
ened, and dismayed 

By just those very aspects, which, with keener 
glance surveyed. 

Would stimulate thy languid march and fresh- 
ening hopes excite. 

For difficulties in thy path, betoken thou art 
right. 

" Because the 07ily path to peace, through care 

and conflict lies ; 
Undaunted, those must onward press, who 

hope to win the prize; 
Hard seems the struggle now, but know that 

discipline like this 



Difficulties. 157 

Develops, and augments thy powers, and 
heightens future bHss. 

Rise ! be courageous ! force thy way through 
all that may oppose, 

And soon the rest thou longest for, thine ar- 
duous race shall close; 

And with surprise thou then wilt read, in by- 
gone toil, and strife, 

The presage of serener hours, with joy, and 
gladness rife/' 

Was it an angel's form, which in that maid- 
en's path appeared ? 

Was it an angel-voice, which thus her down- 
cast spirit cheered? 

It matters not; I only know, no angel could 
have brought 

A happier message than the truth, thus oppor- 
tunely taught. 

And she with lighter heart, and step, and fail- 
ing strength renewed, 

O'er rugged roads, and mountain-steeps, her 
pilgrimage pursued, 



158 To a Friend, 

Content — nay, glad — to climb, though often- 
times oppressed. 

Since she was in the path that led to victory, 
and to rest. 



To A Friend, 



Thou dost not need that verse of mine 

Should speak my thanks, or paint thy worth. 

And yet a friendship loved as thine 
May bear what gratitude gives birth. 

Thou art not like those flowers, that ask 

The aid of art, as frail as fair, 
Which in conservatories bask. 

But wither in the open air. 

These stem no storm and brook no blast, 
Though bright their blossoming may be; 

Their perfume pleases, and is past. 
Such things are not a type of thee. 



To a Friend. 159 

They are not; but, I've seen ere now, 
On some wild ruin, mossed, and gray, 

A flower as fair, as sweet, as thou. 
Blessing with bloom its latest day. 

And while its loveliness, has lent, 

Fresh beauty, to that mouldering wall. 

It seemed, as if its sweets were sent 
To make up, for the loss of all. 

The winds might howl, the ruin rock. 

It flourished fearlessly, and fair. 
It shrunk not from the impending shock ; 

It spoke defiance, to despair. 

And thus, in seasons dark, and drear, 
When I have felt — how oft, alas ! — 

With many a mute foreboding fear. 
The ruin of what once I was. 

Thy friendship, like that faithful flower, 

Surviving much, defying all, 
Has caused on sorrow's saddest hour 

Some streaks of happier hue to fall. 



i6o The Shadow and the Light, 



Heaven bless thee for it ! and believe 
That He, who bids the gentle dew- 
Refresh the wall-flower, every eve, 
And morning sunbeams warm it too- 

Oh, doubt not, He will doubly bless 
What purest friendship hath inspired. 

And for its worth, and faithfulness. 
Return, what it hath not required. 



The Shadow and the Light. 

**0 PILGRIM on Hfe's journey. 
Treading its downward way. 
Art thou the same bright creature 
Who sprang with hopes so gay 

"Forth on the unknown pathway 
When life was fresh and new, 
Tinging each scene around her 
With its own golden hue? 



The Shadow and the Light. i6i 

"The same, and yet another; 
Another, yet the same; 
How changed the inner being! 
How changed the outward frame! 

"Where is the bounding footstep? 
Where is the eye's quick sight? 
And where the buoyant spirit, 
The laughter long and light? 

"The step no more is lightsome, 
The eye is slow to see, 
And chastened is the laughter, 
Of old so full of glee. 

"Amid the raven tresses 
The silver threads appear; 
Streaking the midnight darkness. 
They gather year by year. 

"The girlhood dreams so brilliant 

That floated through the mind, 

Fleeting as sunset glories, 

Which leave no trace behind, — 
11 



1 62 The Shadow and the Light, 

" How are they all departed, 

Those dreams of youth's bright hours, 
That came, and went, and vanished. 
And died like last year's flowers! 

"The friends who spread above thee 

In childhood's early day 
Their kind protecting shelter. 
Thy parents — where are they?'* 

Thus sings the eanhly minstrel, 
Mourning o'er pleasures gone; 

But high above these changes, 
Thus speaks the heavenly One : 

"Why mourn o'er strength departed? 
God's strong right arm shall be 
Thy power. His quickening Spirit 
Thy spirit's energy. 

"And every trembling footstep, 
And every waning power. 
And every hair that silvers. 
Tells of the coming hour 



The Shadow and the Light, 163 

*'When, laying off these garments, 
This toil-worn robe of earth, 
Thou shalt put on the vesture 
That waits the spirit's birth. 

" Earth is no vale of sadness. 
Seen in that holy light — 
That smile of God, whose glory 
Makes even darkness bright. 

"And if, through all life's changes, 
Thy steadfast aim hath been. 
To take each onward footstep 
By faith in things unseen, 

"Far holier than the gladness 
Of youth's light-hearted glee 
Deep in thy long-tried spirit 
The 'peace of God' shall be. 

"And for the dreams of girlhood 
Shall beam upon thine eyes 
The fair celestial mansions 
Eternal in the skies. 



1 64 Little by Little, 

"The friends who clustered round thee 
In thy first home of love, 

* Not lost, but gone before ' thee. 
They wait for thee above. 

"Thou canst not falter, pilgrim, 
On life's declining road, 
If through its light and shadow 
Thine eye be fixed on God." 



Little by Little. 

When the new years come, and the old years 

go. 
How, little by little, all things grow! 

All things grow, and all decay, 

Little by little passing away. 

Little by little, on fertile plain, 

Ripen the harvests of golden grain, 

Waving and flashing in the sun, 

When the summer at last is done. 



Little by Little. 165 

Little by little they ripen so 

As the new years come and the old years 

go. 

Low on the ground an acorn lies, 

Little by little it mounts to the skies, 

Shadow and shelter for wandering herds, 

Home for a hundred singing-birds. 

Little by little the great rocks grew 

Long, long ago, when the world was new; 

Slowly and silently, stately and free, 

Cities of coral under the sea 

Little by little are building; while so 

The new years come and the old years 

go- 

« 

Little by little old tasks are done ; 

So are the crowns of the faithful won, 

So is heaven in our hearts begun. 

With work and with weeping, with laughter 

and play. 
Little by little, the longest day. 
And the longest life are passing away — 



1 66 Links in the Chain, 

Passing without return ; while so 

The new years come and the old years go. 



Links in the Chain. 

The blast that drove the storm-clouds across 
the heavens shook the oak, and the acorn- 
cup, loosened from its fruit, fell on the 
pathway ; 

A cloud burst; a raindrop filled the acorn- 
cup. % 

A robin, wearied by the sultry heat of an au- 
tumn day, and troubled by the fury of 
the storm, hopped on the path when all 
was calm, and drank of the raindrop. 
Refreshed and gladdened, he flew to his 
accustomed place in the ivy that overhung 
the poet's window, and there he trilled 
his sweetest, happiest song. 

The poet heard, and rising from his reverie 
wrote a chant of graceful rejoicing. The 
chant went forth into the world, and en- 



Links in the Chain, 167 

tered the house of sorrow, and uttered its 
heart-stirring accents by the couch of 
sickness. The sorrowful were comforted, 
the sick were cheered. 

Many voices praised the poet. He said, "The 
chant was inspired by the robin's song." 

" I owe my song to the raindrop," said the 
robin. 

*' I should have sunk into the earth had not 
the acorn-cup received me," said the rain- 
drop. 

" I had not been there to receive you but for 
the angry blast," said the acorn-cup. 

And so, they that w^ere comforted praised the 
blast ; but the blast replied, " Praise Him 
at whose word the stormy wind ariseth, 
and who from darkness can bring light, 
making His mercies oftentimes to pass 
through unseen, unknown, and unsuspect- 
ed channels, and bringing in due time, 
by His own way, the grateful chant from 
the angry storm-cloud." 



1 68 Mizpah, 

Do Justly. 

"Do justly!" 'tis thy God's command, 

The mandate of thy King; 
Be prompt in rendering dues to all, 
And let no fraud-spot, great or small, 

Unto thy conscience cling. 

•' Love mercy," thou who need'st its aid 

Through all this mortal strife. 
Whose highest thought, whose purest deed, 
Must still Divine forbearance need, 

Love that which is thy life. 

" Walk humbly," thou so soon to sleep 

Beneath the noteless sod ; 
For how can dust and ashes dare 
The panoply of pride to wear? 

Walk humbly with thy God. 



Mizpah. 



When friend from friend is partin< 
And in each speaking eye 



Mizpah. 1 69 

The silent tears are starting, 

To tell what words deny, 
How could we bear the heavy load 

Of such heart-agony 
Could we not cast it all, our God, 

Our gracious God, on Thee, 
And feel that Thou kind watch will keep 

When we are far away — 
That thou wilt soothe us when we weep 

And hear us when we pray? 

Yet oft these hearts will whisper 

That better 'twould betide 
If we were near to those we love, 

And zvatchvig by their side ; 
But sure Thou'lt love tJicm dearer, Lord, 

For trusting Thee alone, 
And sure TJiou wilt draw nearer^ Lord. 

The farther we are gone. 
Then why be sad, since Thou wilt keep 

Watch o'er them day by day — 
Since Thou wilt soothe them when they weep 

And hear iis when we pray ? 



170 JesMs Only. 



Jesus Only. 

O Thou dear Lord, who stayest 
When all the guests are gone, 

When in its silent chambers 
The soul sits down alone. 

Our garlands are all withered. 
Our sweetest songs are sung, 

The lamps which lit our feasting 
Have gone out one by one. 

The gladness and the beauty 
Have vanished from our sight. 

The footsteps of our dear ones 
Have died away in night. 

Yet, thanks to Thee that ever 
Thou comest at our will. 

Thy voice is heard the clearer 
When all the house is still. 

As on the Mount of Vision, 
Amid the shining three. 



A Song of Tha7iks, 171 

The overawed disciples 

Looked up and saw but Thee, 

So we, our brightness faded, 
Our sweet companions flown, 

Lift up our troubled faces, 
To find Thou art not gone, 

Thanks to Thy name that ever 
In grief Thou dost appear, 

That by each deepening shadow 
We know Thy sunshine near. 

Be Ruler of our feasting. 

Thou Love of love, alone, 
O Thou dear Lord, who stayest 

When all the guests are gone. 



A Song of Thanks. 

*' I WILL give thanks " for blessings strewn 
Across my pilgrim way; 
For loving-kindness Thou hast shown 
Thy servant day by day. 



172 Prayer. 

*' I will give thanks " for friendships made 

With honored saints of God; 
I will give thanks for loved ones laid 

Beneath the silent sod. 

" Thanks " for the cup of unmixed joy- 
Filled to the very brim; 

Thanks, too, for bitter grief's alloy, 
And eyes for sorrow dim. 

" I will give thanks " for wayside streams 

Whereat my soul hath drunk ; 
For impulse from thy quickening beams 

When hope had wellnigh sunk. 

Thanks for the " word of truth " which brought 

My soul her daily food ; 
Thanks for the " all things," that have wrought 

Together for my good. 



Pra YER. 



In thinking how my friend this morn could see 
My soul with hers would intermingled be, 



Thoughts at the Grave of a Friend. 173 

In quiet tone my heart to her shall speak, 
And in return, a kind remembrance seek, 
^By Prayer, that language winged, strong, and 

clear, 
Which in one sigh, embraces all held dear. 
Shows to the heart, and brings in sight of 

God, 
So many loved ones, near, and far abroad. 
A boundless language, reaching to the sky. 
The better heard that it ascends so high ; 
Pure incense, which an equal perfume leaves 
With him who lights the flame, and who re- 
ceives. 



Thoughts at the Grave of a 
Friend. 

Lonely and low is thy dwelling-place now, 
On which the bright sunbeams are dawning. 

But oh, I remember the moments, when thou 
Wast as blithe as the breeze of the morn- 
ing. 



1 74 Thoughts at the Grave of a Friend, 

Silent and sad is the place of thy rest, 

Where thou sleep'st the last slumber de- 
creed thee, 
But well I remember, when warm was thy 
breast, 
How few* in gay mirth could exceed thee. 

Yet rest in thy mansion ; sleep quietly on ; 
There was naught in that mirth which 
should cost thee, 
Or those who best knew thee, one sigh now 
thou'rl gone, 
Were it not that too early we lost thee. 

Thine was not the laughter which leaves us 
more sad, 
Unnatural, unheeded, unglowing, 
'Twas a gush of enjoyment, which seemed to 
be glad 
To get loose, from a heart overflowing. 

But 'tis not the memory of moments of mirth 
Which thy claim to remembrance now gives 
thee. 



Expressive Silence, 175 

Their light is obscured by the grave, but thy 
worth, 
In spite of the grave, still outlives thee. 

Thy sterling integrity, candor, and sense, 
Thy benevolence, frank and warm-hearted. 

Which shamed the professions of empty pre- 
tence. 
These live, though thy life has departed, 

AncJ long shall they lend to thy lonely tomb 
A glory like that the sun grants us. 

When the clouds he hath set in, have lost all 
their gloom, 
And a beautiful twilight enchants us. 



Expressive Silence. 

Sacred silence ! All thy power 
Have we ever known ? 

-No ! We lavish upon language 
Praise that is thy own. 



176 Expressive Silence, 

Thought is silent in its dweUing, 

Deep within the breast; 
Speech is but the outward clothing 

In which thought is drest. 

Speech is but the upper current 

Of a deep, deep sea ; 
Far below in sacred silence 

Must the treasures be. 

Calmness, coolness, dwell with silence, 

Silent falls the dew ; 
Silent roll the stars above us, 

In the unfathomed blue, 

Silent worship ! 'tis not merely 

Found by sitting still, 
This is but the outward symbol 

Of the silent will. 

Silent waiting ! not the body, 

But the soul, that stands 
With bowed head, and ear attentive 

For its Lord's commands. 



Expressive Silence. 177 

Silent suffering! loud lamenting 

Never had thy power; 
Silent sympathy ! no other 

Fits the darkest hour. 

Silent gratitude! when language 

Vainly strives to tell 
All her sense of good accepted, 

Silence speaks it well. 

Mute submission ! meekly bowing 

'Neath the Eternal's will, 
"Dumb because my Father did it" 

Is its language still. 

Silent joy ! to give it utterance 

Music has no tone ; 
When the deepest, purest, holiest, 

It is all our own. 

What can still the voice of slander 

Like the mute reply. 

Love to slanderer and slandered 

Speaking in the eye ? 
12 



178 Expressive Sileiice. 

Is the spirit moved to anger 

By another's speech ? 
Silent mastery of passion 

Best his heart will reach. 

Silent vigils, silent prayers ! 

Oh how they ascend 
From the sad and anxious watchers 

By the couch they tend ! 

And like vapor heavenward tending, 
They will fall in showers, 

Making parched and barren deserts 
Cheerful with spring flowers. 

Mingling with the crowds around us, 

As we pass them by 
We can give but friendly greeting, 

Or the kind reply. 

But the hand-in-hand companions 

Journeying side by side 
Toward the one eternal city, 

Loving, true, and tried, 



Expressive Silence. 179 

Why should these be ever feeding 

Upon words alone, 
When the heart's most precious feeling 

Is to each unknown ? 

Ah ! how many social gatherings, 

Were we simply true. 
Would enrich and bless our spirits 

More than now they do ! 

Thought and speech would flow together; 

And when these were not, 
Silence like the heavenly manna 

Feeds again the thought. 

We should often find at parting 

That a heavenly Guest, 
Known by breaking bread among us, 

Had our gathering blest. 



i8o Trifle Not. 



Trifle Not. 

'Tis not for man to trifle ; life is brief, 

And sin is here ; 
Our age is but the falling of a leaf, 

A dropping tear. 
We have no time to sport away the hours ; 
All must be earnest in a world like ours. 

Not many lives, but only one^ have we — 

One, only one; 
How sacred should that one life ever be, 

That narrow span ! 
Day after day filled up with blessed toil. 
Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil. 

Oh, life beloiv ! how brief, and poor, and sad ! 

One heavy sigh; 
Oh, life above ! how, long, and fair, and glad ! 

An endless joy. 
Oh, to be done with daily dying here I 
Oh, to begin the living in yon sphere ! 



Finish thy Work, i8i 

Finish thy Work, 

Finish thy work ! The time is short, 

The sun is in the west ; 
The night is coming on; till then 

Think not of rest. 

Yes, finish thy work, then rest; 

Till then rest never; 
The rest prepared for thee by God, 

Is rest for ever. 

Finish thy work, then wipe thy brow, 

Ungird thee from thy toil; 
Take breath, and from each weary limb 

Shake off the soil. 

Finish thy work, then sit thee down 

On some celestial hill, 
And of its strength-reviving air 

Take then thy fill. 

Finish thy work, then go in peace, 
Life's battle fought and won; 



1 82 Hidden Life. 

Hear from the throne thy Master's voice 
" Well done ! Well done !" 

Finish thy work, then take thy harp, 

Give praise to God above ; 
Sing a new song of mighty joy 

And endless love. 

Give thanks to Him who held thee up 

In all thy path below ; 
Who sees thee faithful unto death, 

And crowns thee now. 



Hidden Life. 

Your life is hid with Christ in God. — CoL. iii. 3. 

Secret, and deep, the crystal springs. 

From which the mountain streamlet flows ; 

Silent, and sealed, the wondrous germ. 

From which the generous shade-tree grows; 

And far away, on some lone height, 
Where human footsteps may not roam, 



Hidden Life. 183 

Nor dark earth-shadows dim the Hght, 
The free, brave eagle finds a home; 
So thy best strength, O human heart! 
Comes from a hidden Source apart. 

From its calm depths, the daily flow 

Of outward life is pure and clear; 
Souls, fed from living waters, show 

Their source of strength by virtue here; 
And hearts, which drink of love divine, 

Brighten with love life's shadowy way — 
A love, which more and more shall shine, 

Unto the perfect, endless day. 
Through God's blest power, their lives may be, 
Like eagle soarings, brave and free. 

Hush, then, the promptings of thy will, 

And humbly wait the heavenly Guest, 
For in His presence, sweet and still. 

Rude passion shall be soothed to rest; 
And when thy heart is hushed, and calm, 

Earnest to feel the touch divine, 
His Spirit comes, a healing balm, 

And breathes its sweetness into thine. 



184 A^ the Last. 



At the Last 

Man goeth forth unto his work, and to his labor, until 
the evening. — Ps. civ. 23. 

The stream is calmest, when it nears the tide, 
And flowers are sweetest, at the eventide, 
And birds most musical, at the close of day, 
And saints divinest, when they pass away. 

Morning is lovely, but a holier charm 
Lies folded close in Evening's robe of balm, 
And weary man must ever love her best, 
For Morning calls to toil, but Night brings 
rest. 

She comes from Heaven, and on her wings 

doth bear 
A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer; 
Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, 
To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. 

All things are hushed before her, as she 

throws 
O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose; 



Knowing as we are Known, 185 

There is a calm, a beauty, and a power. 
That morning knows not, in the evening 
hour. 

"Until the evening" we must weep and toil, 
Plough life's stern furrows, dig the weedy 

soil. 
Tread with tired feet our rough, and thorny, 

way, 
And bear the heat, and burden, of the day. 

Oh, when our sun is setting, may we glide. 
Like summer evening, down the golden tide. 
And leave behind us, as we pass away, 
Sweet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay ! 



Knowing as we are Known. 

Wandering down life's mystic pathway, 
Through the sunlight, through the shade, 

Under sheltering palms of Elim, 
Or through Baca's lonely glade, 



1 86 Knowing as we are Known. 

We have clasped dear hands of friendship, 
We have spoken, heart to heart; 

Lips have whispered sweetest comfort. 
Ere the darkness rent apart. 

Ere God's angel smote our eyelids 
With a blindness full of tears; 

Shall the veil again be lifted 
In the far, eternal years ? 

As we pass death's solemn river, 

Meet the ransomed, clothed in white. 

Shall we know the loved and parted, 
Taken from our longing sight ? 

Shall the hands, unclasped in sorrow, 
Be reclasped, in streets of gold? 

Shall we know our lambs, so tender. 
Gathered in the Shepherd's fold? 

Yes ! Within the glad Hereafter, 

Passed through gleaming gates of pearl. 

We shall know and love for ever, 
While God's ages onward roll. 



III. 
NATURE 



NATURE 



Nature. 

Nature, whose ever- varying face 

Shows such infinity of grace, 

Responsive to our gayer hours 

With murmurous streams, and smihng flowers, 

In the swift flight of insect-wing; 

In every note thy sweet birds sing, 

Thou callest with exultant voice 

Unto the glad, " Rejoice ! rejoice !" 

The stricken heart, the thoughtful mood, 
Find solace in thy sombre wood ; 
'Mong lonely hills, grand mountain-lines. 
Broken by serried ranks of pines; 
The cataract's vibrating roar; 
And the wild, storm-torn, rocky shore, 
Whereon the sea, with restless moan. 
Beats his dark waves to seething foam, — 

1S9 



1 90 The Mysteries of Nature. 

In these, the sad heart finds expressed 
His solemn thoughts, his stern unrest, 
The subtle sympathy, that springs 
From reading God in natural things. 

Oh, more than others, blest is he 
Who walks the earth with eyes to see; 
Who finds the hieroglyphics clear, 
Which God has written everywhere; 
Among the stars, upon the wing 
Of the minutest fluttering thing — 
Ciphers, that only need the key 
Of reverence, faith, humility. 
Him, Mother Nature, leadest thou. 
With cheerful heart, and earnest brow, 
Safely along life's care-strewn road. 
From earth to heaven, from thee to God. 



The Mysteries of Nature. 

The works of God are fair for naught. 
Unless our eyes, far seeing, 



The Mysteries of Nature, 19I 

See hidden in the thing the thought 
That animates its being. 

The outward form is not the whole, 

But every part is moulded 
To image forth an inward soul, 

That dimly is unfolded. 

The dew falls nightly, not alone 
Because the meadows need it, 

But, on an errand of its own. 
To human souls that heed it. 

The stars are lighted in the skies, 

Not merely for their shining, 
But, like the looks of loving eyes. 

Have meanings worth divining. 

Thus Nature dwells within our reach. 
But, though we stand so near her, 

We still interpret half her speech 
With ears too dull to hear her. 

Whoever yearns to see aright, 
Because his heart is tender, 



192 The Best Teacher, 

Shall catch a glimpse of heavenly light 
In every earthly splendor. 

So, since the universe began, 

And till it shall be ended, 
The soul of Nature, soul of man, 

And soul of God are blended. 



The Best Teacher. 

From everything our Saviour saw, 
Lessons of wisdom He would draw — 
The clouds, the colors in the sky; 
The gentle breeze, that whispers by; 
The fields, all white with waving corn; 
The lilies, that the vale adorn; 
The reed, that trembles in the wind; 
The tree, where none its fruit can find ; 
The sliding sand ; the flinty rock. 
That bears unmoved the tempest's shock; 
The thorns, that on the earth abound; 
The tender grass, that clothes the ground ; 



Sunrise. 193 

The little birds, that fly in air; 
The sheep, that need the shepherd's care; 
The pearls, that deep in ocean lie; 
The gold, that charms the miser's eye. 
All from His lips some truth proclaim, 
Or learn to tell their Maker's name. 



Sunrise. 



Far within the cloud-flecked east 
Glowing tints begin to swim. 

As if Nature's great high priest 

In color, poured his morning hymn. 

Brighter glows the kindling flame, 
Until at length the sun I see. 

While somewhat, that I cannot name. 
Responds with thrilling joy in me, 

As if all this sumptuous show 

Awoke some sleeping hint of thought. 

Of joys my spirit used to know 

Ere she within this form, was caught. 

13 



1 94 Morning, 

'Tis far more than joy of eye 

That moves me thus to happy tears, 

As the radiant colors die, 
And the perfect day appears. 

Nothing more I know than this : 
Earth, and her various mysteries. 

Touch our souls with holier bliss, 
As holier things they symbolize. 

Thus, with such glories rich and bright. 
Whispers the sweet voice of Faith, 

Shall dawn for us Heaven's holy light. 
After the solemn night of death. 



Morning. 



Cojne, at the Morning honr. 
Come, let iis kneel, and pray ; 

Prayer is the Christian pilgrim's staff, 
To gnide him on Ids way. 



Begin thy day with God ; 
He is thy Sun, and Day; 



Noon, 1 95 

His is the radiance of thy dawn ; 
To Him address thy lay. 

Take thy first meal with God; 

He is thy heavenly Food; 
Feed with, and on, Him ; He with thee 

Will feast in brotherhood. 

Take thy first walk with God ; 

Let Him go forth with thee; 
By sea, or stream, or mountain-path, 

Seek still His company. 

Thy first transactions be 

With God himself above; 
So shall thy business prosper well, 

And all the day be love. 



Noon. 

At Noon, bcneatJi the Rock 
Of Ages rest aizd pray ; 

Sweet is the shelter from the suit 
In the weary heat of day. 



196 Evening. 

It is bright noon of a summer's day; 
The meadow-sides are sweet with hay; 
I seek a cool and sheltered seat 
Just where the field, and forest, meet. 
Where grow the pine trees, tall, and bland, 
The ancient oaks, austere, and grand. 
And fringy roots, and pebbles, fret 
The ripples of the rivulet. 

Here, silently, and tenderly. 
The dawn of peace descends on me. 
Oh, this is peace ! I have no need 
Of friend to talk, of book to read; 
A dear Companion here abides; 
Close to my thrilling heart He hides ; 
The holy silence is His voice; 
I he, and listen, and rejoice. 



Evening. 

At Evening, in thy home, 
Aronnd its altar pray ; 



Night. 197 

And finding there the house of God, 
With Heaven then close the day. 



Nozv comes the quiet, and the cool, of night, 
To give me back the calm, of which the light 
Of this gay world has sought me to bereave, 
O gentle shadows of the tranquil eve ! — 
Eve, with thy stillness, and soul-soothing 

balm — 
What do I owe thee for thy solemn calm? 
Thou comest down, like some peace-bringing 

dove, 
To soothe, and cheer, me with thy silent 

love. 



Night. 

When Midnight veils my eyes. 

Oh, it is sweet to say, 
I sleep, bnt my heaH waketh, Lord, 

With Thee to watch, and pray. 



198 The Seasojis. 

The bright day's scenes, and labors, close, 
And wearied Nature seeks repose ; 
With pardoning mercy richly blest, 
Guard me, my Saviour, while I rest; 
And as each morning sun shall rise, 
Oh, lead me onward to the skies. 

And at my life's last setting sun, 
My conflicts o'er, my labors done, 
Jesus, Thy heavenly radiance shed 
To cheer, and bless, my dying-bed, 
And from death's gloom my spirit raise 
To see Thy face, and sing Thy praise. 



The Seasons. 



Eternal Power, from whom all blessings 

flow. 
Teach me still more to wonder, more to 

know; 
Seedtime, and harvest, let me see again ; 
Wander the leaf-strewn wood, the frozen plain; 



The Months. 199 

Let the first flower, corn-waving field, plain, 

tree, 
Here round my home, still lift my soul to 

Thee; 
And let me ever, 'mid Thy bounties, raise 
An humble note of thankfulness, and praise. 



The Months. 

JANUARY. 

"By His commandment He maketh the 
snow to fall apace, and sendeth swiftly the 
lightnings of his judgment. 

''By his great power He maketh the clouds 
firm, and the hailstones are broken small. 

"At His sight the mountains are shaken, 
and at His will the north wind bloweth. 

"The noise of the thunder maketh the 
earth to tremble, so doth the northern storm, 
and the whirlwind; as birds flying, he scat- 
tereth the snow, and the falling thereof is as 
the lighting of grasshoppers. 



200 The Months. 

*' The eye marvelleth at the beauty of the 
whiteness thereof, and the heart is astonished 
at the raining of it. 

"When the cold north wind bloweth, and 
the water is congealed into ice, it abideth 
upon every gathering together of water, and 
clotheth the water as with a breastplate. 

" It devoureth the mountains, and burneth 
the wilderness, and consumeth grass as fire." 



FEBRUARY. 

" He giveth snow like wool ; he scattereth 
the hoarfrost like ashes. 

" He casteth forth His ice like morsels ; 
who can stand before His cold? 

" He sendeth out His word, and melteth 
them ; He causeth His winds to blow, and 
the waters flow." 

Psalm cxlvii. 16-18. 

MARCH. 



And now men see not the bright light 



The Months. 201 

which is in the clouds, but the wind pass- 
eth by, and cleanseth them. 

" Fair weather cometh out of the north." 

Job xxxvii. 21, 22. 
APRIL. 

"Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it; 
Thou greatly enrichest it with the river of 
God, which is full of water; Thou preparest 
them corn, when Thou hast so provided for 
it. 

"Thou waterest the ridges thereof abun- 
dantly; Thou settlest the furrows thereof; 
Thou makest it soft with showers; Thou 
blessest the springing thereof 

"Thou crownest the year with Thy good- 
ness, and Thy paths drop fatness. 

" They drop upon the pastures of the wil- 
derness ; and the little hills rejoice on every 
side. 

"The pastures are clothed with flocks, and 
the valleys also are covered over with corn; 
they shout for joy; they also sing." 

Psalm Ixv. 9-13. 



202 The Mofiths, 

MAY. 

"Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over 
and gone. 

"The flowers appear on the earth; the time 
of the singing of birds is come, and the 
voice of the turtle is heard in the land." 
Song of Solomon ii. ii, 12. 

JUNE. 

" Come on, therefore, let us enjoy the good 
things that are present. Let no flowers of 
the spring pass by us. 

" Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds be- 
fore they be withered." 

Song of Solomon ii. 6-8. 

JULY. 

"The clouds poured out water; the skies 
sent out a sound; thine arrows also went 
abroad. 

"The voice of Thy thunder was in the 
heaven, the lightnings lightened the world, 
the earth trembled and shook." 

Psalm Ixxvii. 17, 18, 



The Mo7iths, 203 

*^ Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him 
that made it; very beautiful it is in the 
brightness thereof. 

** It compasseth the heaven about with a 
glorious circle, and the hands of the Most 
High have bended it." 



AUGUST. 

*' Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields ; 
for they are white already to harvest." 

John iv. 35. 

SEPTEMBER. 

" He causeth the grass to grow for the cat- 
tle, and herb for the service of man, that he 
may bring forth food out of the earth." 

Psalm civ. 14. 

OCTOBER. 

" The harvest is past, the summer is ended." 

Jeremiah viii. 20. 



204 The Snow - Wi^eath. 

NOVEMBER. 

" With clouds He covereth the hght, and 

commandeth it not to shine by the cloud that 

Cometh betwixt." 

Job xxxvi. 32. 

DECEMBER. 

" He saith to the snow, Be thou on the 
earth ; likewise to the small rain, and to the 
great rain of His strength. 

" He sealeth up the hand of every man : 
that all men may know His work. 

" The beasts go into dens, and remain in 
their places. Out of the south cometh the 
whirlwind: and cold out of the north. 

" By the breath of God frost is given, and 
the breadth of the waters is straitened." 

Job xxxvii. 6-10. 



The Snow-Wreath. 

Oh, what is so pure, so soft, or so bright, 
As a wreath of the new-fallen snow? 



The Snow - Wreath, 205 

It seems as if brushed from the garments of 
light, 
To fall on us mortals below. 

But here is no home for thee, child of the 
sky; 

Thy purity here must decay ; 
Thy being be transient, thy beauty all die, 

Nor a trace of thy loveliness stay. 

Go, go to the mountain-top; there make thy 
nest: 

'Tis nearer thy own native home ; 
And live on its peak, like a silvery crest, 

Where nothing to soil thee can come. 

This emblem — how apt of a virtuous mind 
Made pure by the Spirit Divine ! 

Like a snow-wreath, 'tis marred in a world 
so unkind, 
Fit only in heaven to shine. 



2o6 Wanderings. 

Wanderings. 

The world lay wide before me. 
Everything shone with the light of newly-wa- 
kened spring; 
Each tree, each leaf, each half-unfolded flower, 
Spoke to my heart with all-impressive power, 
And bade me leave the noisy haunts of men, 
And seek for pleasure in some lonely glen. 
Or on the mountain-top, or in the wood, 
Or by some onward, ever-rolling flood. 
Where'er kind Nature's voice could to my 

heart 
Some holy truth, some heavenly life, impart; 
Where'er her teachings could my spirit raise 
To speak, with leaf and flower, my Maker's 
praise ; , 

And forth I strayed. 

At first, my wandering way 
Led where the river runs with ceaseless lay; 
And as I listened to its rippling tide. 
It seemed no more the sound of waves that 
glide, 



Wa7iderings, 207 

But like a silvery voice, that sang this song, 
As through the vale the river flowed along: 



" From a tiny cave in the mountain-side — 

The mountain so wild and high — 
Where the forest waves with majestic pride. 
Where the wolf, the fox, and the serpent, hide, 
From that tiny cave sprang I. 

"Through the quivering leaves fell the golden 
light 

Of the sun's enchanting beam; 
The wood-bird came from the mountain-height 
To bathe his plumage, so fragile and bright. 

In the flow of my crystal stream. 

" On, on I went, dancing gayly along 

Where the path was all untried; 
Though the rocks oft raised a barrier strong, 
I laughed at their might, and with noisy song 

I leaped o'er their mossy side. 

"But nozv the calm valley before me lay. 
In loveliest verdure arrayed. 



2o8 Waiiderings, 

And through it, in many a winding way, 
While the children came to my banks to play, 
I gayly and happily strayed. 

*^ Yet forward I ran. When the day had gone, 

And the world was hushed to rest, 
Through forest and plain I still rushed on, 
Unceasing, untiring, for sleep would not come 
To quiet my restless breast. 

" But now on the air there comes the wild 
roar 
Of the ocean's white-capped wave ; 
Each moment is bearing me unto its shore; 
I fain would retreat, yet I'm urged forth the 
more: 
Oh, is there no power to save?" 

The song thus ceased. 
The voice whose thrilling tone 
Had spoken to my inmost heart was gone ; 
The ripples danced upon the river's breast, 
And their low murmur seemed the voice of 
rest. 



Wanderings, 209 

Yet far away I Jieard the ocean's roar, 
I sazv the waves dash high upon its shore, 
And knew the river's tranquil flow concealed 
The voice that had its wild despair revealed. 

^ And then I thought 

Of Jiuman hearts, whose tide 
Seems ever calmly through this world to 

glide, 
Yet underneath the clear and placid breast 
Are thoughts and feelings which can 7iever 

rest, 
And waves of anguish deep, and dark despair, 
Roll high where oft the surface seems most 

fair. 

On, on I wandered, 
Till at length I stood 

Where, all around me, rose a lofty wood ; 
Beneath an aged oak, whose branches wide 
Cool shelter from the noonday sun supplied, 
I laid me down, and listened to the breeze. 
That sported gayly with the broad green 

leaves. 

u 



2 1 o Wanderings. 

Yet, as I heard its gay and laughing tone, 
To me it seemed to speak of days bygone, 
Of many a froHc wild and revel gay 
Within the wood, where now it breathed this 
lay: 

** November had come, with its chilling breath ; 
The flowers had faded, and fallen in death; 

The leaves were all sere; 
And meadow, and forest, and grove, once so gay 
In the cheerful light of a summer's day, 

Looked solemn and drear. 

" The moon floated on through the star-gem- 
med sky, 
Like a queen riding forth in her majesty, 

Stately and slow; 
Not a cloud was sailing around her way, 
To hide, with its folds, her placid ray 
From the earth below. 

"In the heart of the wood was a quiet glade. 
Where the withered leaves from the trees had 
strayed. 

And lay in repose; 



Wandermgs. 2 1 1 

But when the shadows of evening came on, 
They woke from their slumbers, and, one by 
one, 

They gently uprose. 

"The calm little glade looked pleasant and 

bright 
In the silvery glance of the queen of night; 

And the leaflets all, 
With a rustling voice, cried out to the breeze, 
* Bring music to-night, that the forest leaves 
May dance at their ball.' 

"And the breezes came, with melodious sound, 
And the leaves whirled round o'er the frozen 
ground 

In dances gay; 
Then, wilder, and swifter, 07i came the breeze, 
And wilder, and swifter, round flew the leaves 

At sound of its lay. 

"Dark clouds were gathering thick in the air, 
The storm-winds upspringing fast from their lair. 
With destroying breath ; 



2 1 2 Wanderings, 

But the leaves heard not their wild, warning 

cry, 
As they whirled around in their revelry, 
In their dance of death." 



The air now 
Faintly quivered, and the leaves 
One moment trembled in the dying beeeze, 
Thoi all was still. 
Yet, though the zephyr's song had passed 

away, 
With me it lingered long ; 
To me it spoke of those whom Pleasure's 

power 
Hath conquered in some unprotected hour, 
And now, though on their ear there comes 

from far 
The sound of all-avenging Justice's car, 
They pause not in their revels, and the cry, 
That warns them that their end is drawing 

nigh, 
They will not hear, till Death has overthrown 
Those idle joys for ivhicJi they lived alone. 



Wanderings. 213 

The thought was painful, and I turned away, 
And wandered forth in many a winding way. 
Until I stood upon the ocean's shore, 
And heard its billows' wild, unceasing roar. 
The waves dashed high upon the rocky steep 
With sound of thunder-tempest, loud and deep, 
And as they onward came, with foaming crest, 
And wave on wave in wild confusion pressed, 
I looked, and listened, with delight, and stood 
Entranced before the never-ceasing flood. 
And as they onward rushed to waiting land, 
And swiftly ran along the glittering sand, 
My heart was full, and joyfully it sung 
The thoughts, and feelings, that around it 
clung: 

" Mighty ocean, far extending, 
Seeming with the heavens blending, 
While the fair earth, round thee bending, 

Loves to touch thy wave, 
Thou unto my listening spirit 
Speak'st of joys it shall inherit — 

Joys beyond the grave. 



214 Wanderings. 

" O thou great and boundless ocean ! 
Like thy restless, endless motion, 
So my life is all commotion 

While this earth's my home; 
But when Death shall come to take me, 
From my troubled dream shall wake me. 

Light and peace will come. 

" Ocean, with thy wavelets dancing, 
And the sunbeams round thee glancing, 
And the vessels gayly prancing 
On thy sparkling breast. 
Thou art like those happy hours 
When my life is wreathed with flowers, 
And my longings rest. 

" Like thee, when to earth returning, 
For her smiling welcome yearning 
Gladly all allurements spurning. 

Swiftly thou dost come, 
TJitis my heart, with earnest longing, 
Feelings deep within it thronging, . 

Nears its heavenly home. 



The Alpine Cataract. 215 

Restless heart, be not leplning, 
Though no sun may nozv be shining, 
And the darkness seems entwining 

Closer round thy way; 
Soon thy home will be in Heaven, 
Soon to thee the light be given 

Of an endless day." 



The Alpine Cataract, 

Frenzied and raving torrent, wildly leaping 
Adown thy rugged channel, never sleeping; 
Bounding from crag to crag; shooting thy 

spray 
From darksome caverns into sunlit day ; 
Grinding thy pathway through primeval rocks. 
Which scorn of puny man the fiercest shocks ; 
Seizing vast boulders ; with resistless blow 
Hurling them helpless to the abyss below; 
Tearing to shreds full many a stately pine, 
Shot from the heights into those jaws of 

thine; 



21 6 The Alpine Cataract, 

Seizing the adventurous hunter who might 

deem, 
By nimble bounds, to span thy treacherous 

stream, 
Relentless, dashing him from stone to stone, 
Rending his flesh, and shattering every bone ; — 
Mysterious power, declare thy origin ! 
Thy parent, who? Where did thy life begin? 

Stranger, not always speeds my life in riot ; 
I know the soothing spell of dreamy quiet. 
Come to yon crystal pool, a peaceful place. 
Where gentian stoops to see her mirrored 

face. 
And fearless insects track their curious way 
O'er my unrippled waters, blithe and gay ; 
Here pause we, while I tell my simple story : 
Behold yon mountain-crests, all bleak and 

hoary ; 
There was I born. A feathery flake of snow. 
Dubious a while if up or down to go, 
My first germ, rested. Many a wandering 

flake 
Beside, around, its place would gently take. 



The Alpine Catai-acf. 2 1 7 

And all along the mountain's ridge, and side, 
Thickly we gathered. Morn, and eventide 
Still witnessed how we thronged, and buried 

deep 
Those awful heads in cold, and silent, sleep. 
So passed a century of winter days. 
When, lo ! the springtide's warm, and genial, 

rays 
Lighted upon us with awakening force. 
Drop followed drop ; the trickling watercourse 
Joined myriads more; the dancing, sparkling 

• stream 
Flowed, joyous, onward 'neath the noonday 

beam ; 
From every gully grew the deep'ning tide ; 
Soon swelled the torrent with tumultuous pride; 
And /, the offspring of a snowflake light, 
Rush on my way, invincible in might, 
Till, spent, and wearied, long repose I take 
Beneath the azAire of yon placid lake. 

Told is my tale, but in its changeful history 
Seest thou not shadowings of man's life of 
mystery ? 



2i8 The Alpine Cataract. 

Childhood, here nurtured in the wintry storm, 
There joyous, gentle, sunny, bright, and warm; 
Then bounding, vigorous, and impetuous Youth ; 
Next, Manhood, tranquil in the ways of truth, 
Or mad with greed, or swiftly borne along 
By passion, lust of power, and zeal in wrong, 
Reckless alike of others' weal or woe, 
Or forced, perchance reluctantly, to know 
The feuds, and struggles, turbulence, and strife, 
Which fill so large a space in human life. 
But most of all, in that, my home of rest, 
Behold, in parable, the Christian blessed ; 
Early or late has dawned on him the day 
Of peace divine, which passeth not away. 
Ofttime the God-sent boon, imparted here, 
Has borne the world-tossed heart through 

many a year, 
While other souls such rest have only met 
Just ere life's weary sun was doomed to set. 



But, sure as God is true to all who trust. 
Peace is the plighted portion of the just, 



The Mountain- Stream, 219 

The work and gift of Him whose changeless 

love 
Breathes its sweet fragrance through the home 

above, 
And decks a resting-place serenely bright 
In realms of" holy, calm, and sweet delight, 



The Mountain-Stream. 

Fair streamlet, running where violets grow, 

Under the elm trees, murmuring low. 

Rippling gently amid the grass, 

I have a fancy as I pass — 

I have a fancy, as I see 

The trailing willows kissing thee; 

As I behold the daisies pied, 

The harebells nodding at thy side; 

The sheep, that feed upon thy brink; 

The birds, that stoop thy wave to drink; 

The blooms, that tempt the bees to stray; 

And all the life that tracks thy way. 



220 The Mountain- Stream, 

I deem thou flowest through grassy meads, 

To show the beauty of gentle deeds ; 

To show how happy the world might be, 

If men, observant, copied tJicc ; 

To show how small a stream may pour 

Verdure, and beauty, on either shore ; 

To teach what humble men might do, 

If their lives were pure, and their hearts were 

true, 
And what a wealth they might dispense 
In modest, calm beneficence, 
Marking their course, as thou dost thine, 
By wayside flowers of love divine. 



And when rushing, with foam, and spray, 

Over the boundless in thy way. 

Leaping and rolling from rock to cave, 

A vast, impetuous, onward wave, 

I have a fancy, as I mark 

Thy fall o'er precipices dark, 

As I behold thy pov»'er revealed. 

And hear thy voice like thunder pealed — 



A Rainy Day. 221 

I have a fancy, as I sit 
Under the rock, where thy rainbows flit, 
And Hsten to thy roar, and swell, 
Sonorous, irresistible. 

I deem thou leapest adown the rocks, 
To show how little are fortune's shocks 
To him, reliant, who knows his strength, 
And measures evil, breadth, and length. 
I deem thou flowest, to teach us still 
That perseverance conquers ill ; 
That no obstruction, small, or great. 
Can daunt the soul that dares its fate; 
That calm, true hearts, in peril's hour, 
Confront it with superior power. 
Here at thy side I sit, and dream 
These fancies twain, sweet Mountain-stream. 



A Rainy Day. 

Rain ! rain ! rain ! 

From morn till evening's fall, 



222 A Rainy Day, 

We have upward gazed in vain ; 

We can see no blue at all. 
Above is one veil of cloud, 

Leaden, and dull, and drear, 
And the raindrops' pattering loud 

Is the only sound we hear. 

We cannot gather the flowers : 

They are blooming all in vain ; 
And the gems of the summer bowers 

Are drowned by the pouring rain. 
No hope of a game on the grass, 

No ramble o'er moorland steep; 
How slowly the hours must pass ! 

Shall we sit us down, and weep? 

Oh no ! We know better, I hope. 

Than to act an ungrateful part : 
Though somewhat narrowed our scope, 

We are not narrowed in heart. 
We'll closer draw together. 

And be kinder than before, 
While the rough and rainy weather 

Shall make us love the more. 



A Rainy Day. 223 

We have plenty of beautiful books, 

And plenty of work to do, 
And plenty of sunny looks, 

That are sweeter than Heaven's own blue. 
With a field of labor, and joy, so wide, 

Not a minute shall pass in vain ; 
And since the sunshine to-day is denied, 

We'll sing of the beauties of rain. 

And it Jias its beauties, rich, and rare, 

Which the sunshine cannot bring. 
Though rain makes the sunshine seem more 
fair. 

And the winter the budding spring. 
So purer the joy in our heart that' swells 

After sorrow, and grief, and pain. 
And the Bible's own beautiful language tells 

Of clear shining after rain. 

Gaze on those tiny crystal balls : 

Could ive fashion aught so fair? 
And mark how the shower gently falls. 

Bringing freshness everywhere. 



2 24 ^ Rainy Day, 

And breathe the air, that awakes and plays 

With the dripping leaves at will, 
Bidding the drops dance in mirthful maze. 

So sportive, and yet so still. 

But there's one more beauty yet 

In the rain that waters the land : 
Let us never, never forget 

'Tis the gift of a Father's hand; 
It is sent by One who loves us more 

Than the kindest of earthly friends, 
And all is beautiful, good, and pure. 

That our heavenly Father sends. 

The sun shines out, and ripens the corn 

In the hardened sinner's field. 
And it bids the crops of the blest new-born 

A plenteous harvest yield; 
Sweetly, and softly, fall the showers 

On the good man's garden-plot. 
But they raise as kindly his drooping flowers 

Who loveth the Giver not. 

Then shall not we a lesson learn, ^ 

That the raindrops, and sunbeams, teach, 



After the Storm. 225 

And be ever ready, in our turn, 

To shower our love on each — 
On the friends that dwell in our bosom — ay, 

And seem of our life a part — 
On the ingrate ones who will ne'er repay 

The warmth of a loving heart? 

Rain ! rain ! rain ! 

A lesso7i we've learned from thee^ 
And thou hast not come in vain 

With thy pattering melody. 
We love the sunshine : its golden light 

Never gladdens our path in vain ; 
But when deprived of its beams so bright, 

Let us sing of the beauties of rain. 



After the Storm. 

After the storm, a calm ; 
After the bruise, a balm ; 
For the ill brings good in the Lord's own time, 
And the sigh becomes a psalm. 

15 



2 26 After the Storm, 

After the drought, the dew ; 
After the cloud, the blue; 
For the sky will smile in the sun's good time, 
And the earth grow glad and new. 

Bloom is the heir of blight; 
Dawn is the child of night; 
And the rolling change of the busy world 
Bids the wrong yield back the right. 

Under the fount of ill, 
Many a cup doth fill, 
And the patient lip, though it drinketh oft, 
Finds only the bitter still. 

Truth seemeth oft to sleep, 
Blessings so slow to reap. 
Till the hours of waiting are weary to bear, 
And the courage is hard to keep. 

Nevertheless, I know 
Out of the dark must grow, 
Sooner or later, whatever is fair. 

Since the heavens have willed it so. 



spring, 227 

Spring, 

"" " The time of the singing of birds is come." 

There's a voice from the woods : 'tis the 

rushing of streams, 
That melt in the sun's reviving beams; 
Away from rock to rock they go, 
Tossing their waters to and fro, 
As if they were things of Hfe, to be 
Awake to the feehngs of Hberty. 

There's a voice from the woods; 'tis the 
voice of flowers. 

That breathe perfume from their forest bow- 
ers, 

As, peeping forth from their close retreat. 

They open their leaves the spring to greet. 

Hark ! another voice : 'tis the warbler's song, 
That comes in melody, sweet, and strong, 
From the depth of the grove, on the balmy 

air, 
The first assurance that Spring is there. 



2 28 Birds. 

Birds. 

Birds, birds ! ye are beautiful things, 

With your earth-treading feet, and your cloud- 
cleaving wings; 

Where shall man wander, and where shall he 
dwell, 

Beautiful birds, that ye come not as well ? 

Ye have homes on the mountain, all rugged, 

and stark ; 
Ye have homes in the forest, all tangled, and 

dark; 
Ye build, and ye brood, 'neath the cottager's 

eaves. 
And ye sleep on the sod 'mid the bonny 

green leaves. 

Ye hide in the heather; ye lurk in the brake; 

Ye dive in the sweet flags, that shadow the lake ; 

Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard- 
decked land; 

Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate 
strand. 



Birds. 229 

Beautiful birds, ye come thickly around 
When the bud's on the branch, and the 

snow's on the ground; 
Ye come when the richest of roses flush out, 
And ye come when the yellow leaf eddies 

about. 



Beautiful birds ! how the schoolboy remembers 
The warblers that chorused his holiday 
tune — 
The robin, that chirped in the frosty Decem- 
bers, 
The blackbird, that whistled through flower- 
crowned June ! 

That schoolboy remembers his holiday ramble 
When he pulled every blossom of palm he 
could see. 
When his finger was raised, as he stopped in 
the bramble. 
With " Hark ! there's the cuckoo ! How 
close he must be !" 



2 30 The Wood - Thrush, 

The Wood-Thrush. 

One misty morn in springtime, when clouds 

were in the sky, 
We wandered out together, my Httle boy, 

and I ; 
We could not wait for sunshine; we yearned 

to see the flowers, 
Whose beauty had not cheered us for many 

long, dark hours. 

I said that it was springtime, but winter lin- 
gered still; 

We felt his breathing in the blast that blew 
from off the hill. 

And we saw his cold white garments, though 
sadly rent, and stained. 

In many a lingering patch of snow that here, 
and there, remained. 

We hunted vainly for the flowers ; they hid 

themselves away, 
And folded up their pretty robes, to wear 

some brighter day ; 



The Wood - Thmsh. 231 

But we heard the murmur of a brook, and 
hastened where it flowed, 

To see if any sign of spring its leaping wa- 
ters showed. 



E'en there the scene was cheerless ; those 
wavelets seemed to flow 

As do the languid teardrops adown the cheek 
of woe : 

While shivering trees, that stood around with 
branches grim, and bare, 

Made piteous moans, like human things op- 
pressed with grief, and care. 



The child looked sadly in my face ; his eyes 
began to fill. 

For disappointment o'er his hopes was breath- 
ing blight, and chill ; 

When, lo ! a sweet, and gladsome, sound, a 
joy-inspiring strain. 

Broke from the leafless branches near, and 
echoed o'er the plain. 



232 The Wood - Thi'tish. 

Louder, and clearer, rose the song; the trees 
forgot to moan ; 

The waters of the brook leaped up, and 
caught that merry tone ; 

My young companion caught it too; he clap- 
ped his hands and smiled. 

And shouted forth the happy thoughts that 
now his heart beguiled. 



Uprose that music to the clouds, and seemed 

to pierce them, too, 
For soon a little sunbeam came peeping, and 

smiling, through ; 
While murky mists, from hill and vale, crept 

noiselessly away, 
Like guilty creatures forced to flee by some 

enchanter's lay. 

We could not see the warbler, though we 

knew that he was nigh; 
Yet still he sought to hide himself from each 

admiring eye, 



The Wood - Thrush. 233 

Like rare, and modest, natures, that, still un- 
seen, pursue 

The pure, and noble, duties God sets for 
them to do. 



We could not see the warbler, yet well I 

knew his voice : 
Its carol many a time before had bid my 

heart rejoice; 
And I told my young companion the history 

of the bird. 
Whose joyous notes still o'er our heads in 

every pause we heard. 



I told about its form, and hue, its plumage, 
and its name, 

And how, at early springtime, so punctually 
it came, 

From Southern groves, to build its nest with- 
in our colder bowers. 

And cheer us, with its music, through all the 
summer hours. 



234 ^'^^^ Wood-TJiriish. 

"And now, my darling child," said I, "mark 

what I've yet to tell 
About this woodland songster, and ponder 

o'er it well : 
He does not get discouraged, hke a foolish 

little boy, 
When he can see before him no prospect 

bright with joy. • 



^'But with the pure devotion, that warms a 

loving heart, 
He seeks, amid misfortune, some comfort to 

impart ; 
When still the sky is darkest, the day most 

dull, and drear. 
He pours abroad his melody, to gladden, and 

to cheer." 



My listener marked the lesson. He found no 

flowers that day, 
But richer was he going home, than when he 

came away, 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 235 

For his little heart remembered, full faithfully, 

and long, 
The beautiful example of the wood-bird's 

cheerful sonsr. 



A Praise-Meeting of the Birds. 

The Eagle called a council. 
As became the king of birds. 

And summoned all the feathered tribe 
To listen to his words. 

From far and near were gathered 

The ''fowls of the air ^ 
And all with one consenting voice 

Moved he should take the chair. 

After due pause, and pluming 

Of each far-reaching wing, 
He said, ** I called you, brothers. 

For praise and worshipping. 

'' From my bleak eyrie, mountain high, 
I see the earth outspread, 
I see the opening of the Hand 
By which we all are fed. 



^3^ A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

" I feel God's power in the wings 
Which bear me up so high, 
Nearer, still nearer, the bright sun 
That smiles in the deep sky. 

" Upon the crags of rocks I dwell, 
Afar 7mue eyes behold, 
Through all the swiftly-passing day, 
Creation manifold. 

" And / t/imk the birds now gathered here 
Can find enough to tell, 
To show the careless sons of men 
That ' God doth all things well.' " 

Just here a pert brisk Sparrow 
His chirping voice would raise : 
" Why, sir, each dawn and close of day 
We greet with songs of praise ! 

" But as for zvorship " — reverent grew 

The tiny brilliant eyes- 
** Sure, every moment that we live 

Fresh cause for that supplies. 



A Praise-Meeting of the Birds. 237 

" Our Father's hand is everywhere ; 
How could we live at all 
Did not His ever-watchful eye 
^ Mark em a sparrow's fait' f^ 

" 'Tis true," replied the monarch bird ; 
'* Yet let this meeting be 
One of especiat praise, that man 
Our gratitude may see. 

" He oft owns not the Providence 
Who leads him on his path ; 
The teachings of his Father's love 
He spurns in fear and wrath. 

** As well my nestlings might rebel 

Against my care when I 
* Stir up the nest ' and bear them forth 
Their feeble wings to try. 

" / praise God for the mountains, 
For the rugged peaks I praise. 
Where my young eaglets spring to life 
Beneath the sun's broad gaze. 



238 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

*'And when the tempest rages 
Around me in the vale, 
To seek my home I dare the storm 
And rise above the gale. 

*' I bless Him for earth's grandeur, 
Each lonely, silent height. 
Where courage firm, and strength are learned 
In heaven's blaze of light." 

" / bless Him for the valleys," 

Now cooed ihe gentle Dove, 
** For darkling groves and murmurous streams, 

And sweet domestic love. 

"And for the quiet heart I bless, 
That rests in full content, 
Knowing all chances must be good 
That by His love are sent. 

" For the quiet heart and spirit meek 
That make my happiness. 
And a memory sweet that hath the power 
The darkest hours to bless. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 239 

" 'Twas ' as a Dove the Spirit came ' 
Down from the opening skies, 
And a Dove it was, who brought the branch 
To gladden Noah's eyes. 

*' What deeper joy hath earth than this — 
A tender, grateful heart, 
That gathers from love's central light 
Bright sun-rays to impart 

"To all who have the eyes to see 
The word that God has writ 
Upon all Nature's open page, 
For men to ponder it ? 

** I thank our Lord for purity, 
Content and gentleness ; 
For holy memories and for peace ; 
For these, for these, I bless." 

" And I for the dashing billows 
That do my food provide," 
Cried the Sea-gull, " and for the wild winds 
Whereon I gayly ride." 



240 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

" I bless him for the morning," 

Crowed gorgeous Chanticleer — 

" For the first beams of joyous day, 
After night's darksome fear." 

"And for His care that guards us," 
Chimed in the plain brown Hen — 

"The care that fain would keep as safe 
The wayward sons of men; 

" And for the chicks that gather 
Beneath my brooding wings ; 
For the farmyard and the roadside. 
And all earth's common things." 

" Here I am, singing yet," then sang 
The little Meadow-Lark 
As he rose circling in the air, 
A small melodious spark. 

" I thank God for the meadows green. 
And for the sky's clear blue ; 
For these I praise Him morn and eve 
The whole long summer through. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 241 

" When the first dawn of early day 
Tinges the eastern sky 
My heart is full of praise, and so 
My sweetest songs I try. 

" Fain would I reach Heaven's pearly gate, 
My grateful hymn to raise ; 
Fain would I pour my whole life forth 
In one long song of praise." 

Then the blithe wee birds sang with her: 
" We praise God that we live ; 

And for all the food and raiment 
That He himself doth give. 

" For sunshine after shower, 

For Summer, Spring and Fall, 
For day-dawn and for evening, — 
We thank Thee, Lord, for all. 

" And the birds which migrate bless Thee 
For guiding us aright 
When, at thy summons given. 
We take our mystic flight. 

16 



242 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 

" Urged by a vague strange longing, 
We flee from storm and cold; 
O'er mountains, seas and forests 
Our onward course we hold. 

*' We know not why we wander. 
Thou biddest; we obey. 
And through the pathless azure 
Follow the appointed way. 

" We trust Thee ; and Thy answer 
Smiles in the summer sun, 
That warms us into vigor 
When the far goal is won. 

" Ah ! if ive stayed to question, 
To prove, to understand, 
Winter and Death would seize us 
In the forbidden land." 

Then said the Swalloavs, " Where we go 

No man hath ever known ; 
At God's high bidding speed we forth ; 

Our secret is our own. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 243 

" He knows, and brings us safely back 
With the Spring's early buds — 
Back to the eaves, the cliffs, the shores, 
Back to the same dear woods." 

The Robin sang among the leaves 
While fell the gentle shower, 

Refreshing all the herbs and grass, 
And every tiny flower: 

" I know the clouds full soon shall pass, 
The sun again shall shine, 
And so the cheerful news I tell 
To this sweet mate of mine. 

" The very winds that rock our tree 
Make our clasp more secure : 
I know calm followeth after storm, 
So cheerily I endure. 

" I sing of hope, which never dies ; 
Of tinist, that never fails ; 
Of courage^ steady and serene : 
These are my chosen tales. 



244 ^ Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

" And while the sun shall follow rain, 
And day-dawn chase the night, 
No Robin e'er shall cease the strain 
That springs from his delight; 

" But, blessing God for all He gives, 
Confiding in His care, 
Shall shozv the world a trusting heart 
Is happy everywhere." 

*' YotL praise for Life, for Love, for Light, 
But we praise God for Death," 
Broke in the Vulture's hoarse, rough voice ; 
And the small birds held their breath. 

" We are earth's purifiers : feared 
And half disdained we are. 
Yet are the agents that can save 
In pestilence and war. 

"We speak, that all may learn to know 
Naught that the Lord has made 
But has its use, its claim to life. 
If claims are fairly weighed. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 245 

*' We follow ever in the train 
Of Death the merciful, 
When Want and Pain release their prey, 
And eye and heart wax dull. 

" In the wide desert's yellow reach, 
Beneath the brazen sky, 
God sends 7is forth to seek our food 
And earth to purify. 

" His purposes not less we serve 
Than dainty birds and flowers, 
Though a sad sombreness still clouds 
These busy lives of ours. 

" All birds — ah, yes, and mankind too — 
Shudder for dread of Death, 
And fondly cling to this poor life 
With every failing breath. 

** But think what this wide world would be 
If time could onward roll. 
And from Pain's clutches. Death could ne'er 
Release the hungering soul ! 



2/^6 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

" We praise for Death ! The Owl there, 
But that he hates the h'ght, 
He, I am sure, would raise his voice 
To bless God for the night. 

" Be sure His works are wholly good ; 
His purposes too grand 
For any finite thought of ours 
Fully to understand." 

The melancholy Heron then, 

And all the birds akin, 
Gave thanks for all the haunts that they 

Love most to harbor in — 

The grave and darksome pools ; the dank. 
Hollow, wind-whispering reeds ; 

The green morass, wherein they find 
All that their nature needs. 

*' We come from a stern, ancient race. 
Hard-working birds," said they ; 

" We toiled to fit the earth for man, 
But now we pass away." 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 247 

*' We could not see our labors end, 
Nor what they should fulfill ; 
The purpose of our life was reached 
In furthering God's will." 

Then said the Stork : " I journey 
From the red old river Nile, 

To where the meadows of the Rhine 
Among his mountains smile. 

" And to and fro for ages 

Hath been our steady flight; 
But the same Power that bade us go 
Hath guided us aright. 

" He cares for all His creatures ; 
* He doeth all things well,' 
As those who love and trust Him most 
Most certainly can tell." 

Here spoke the lofty Ostrich : 

^'My faith my acts attest; 
I leave my eggs at His command 

In their white sandy nest. 



24.S A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 

" ' Scorning the rider and his horse/ 
Across the land I fly; 
The fiery coursers of the winds 
Are scarce more swift than I. 

" He knoweth I must seek my food 
Through many a barren plain, 
So guards my treasures while I go, 
And gives them me again. 

" I bless him for His gracious care 
In all that He hath done — 
And for the desert white and still, 
And for the hot, bright sun." 

*' Nay," said the Snowbird's cheerful note, 
" 'He givctJi snozv like zuool,' 
A blanket for the world, that so 
Her harvests may be full. 

" It lies o'er the earth's brown bosom, 
A mantle light, soft and warm ; 
Folding all growing herbs away 

From the Frost-Kinj^'s chillincr harm. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 249 

" And though my food be somewhat spare, 
* Close picking makes it sweet ;' 
And my cheerful note sounds blithe and gay 
Through the narrow city street. 

" For I sing, though storm and cold be hard, 
Yet precious fruits they bring 
When the long cold Winter leaves the earth 
Unto the rule of Spring. 

" The germ of all the leafage green 
Lies folded on the bough, 
Resting in patient hopefulness, 
Though you cannot see it now. 

" Exhausted Nature 'neath the snow 
Is resting in calm sleep, 
Waiting God's voice to summon her 
Forth from her slumbers deep : 

"And in the rush of Spring's wild winds, 
In roaring waterfall, 
She hears her Master's voice, and comes 
Obedient to His call : 



250 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 

" And decks herself with modest flowers, 
And calls her sweet birds back, 
While the bright sunbeams laugh and dance 
Behind old Winter's track. 

"I am the Snow-King's harbinger; 
And love him, for I know 
The stern cold blessing that he brings. 
The blessing of the snow." 

Amid the reverent silence then 
A clear sweet note was heard, 

The soft, melodious, flute-like voice 
Of Afric's " Gospel Bird :" 

" / bring a zvondjvtis tale to you : 
Oh listen, while I tell, 
And bear it onward in your flight 
For men to ponder well. 

" I come from a far land of wealth, 
Where smiling Nature stands 
To pour her hidden treasures forth 
To all deserving hands. 



A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 251 

" And Africa to all her sons 

Cries, ' Oh ! return to home ! 
Afar you languish, starve and die ; 
Here is your birthright — come! 

" * Come with your lessons, hardly learned 
Through years of wasted toil ; 
I wait to crown your efforts here 
In my rich laughing soil. 

" And bring the gospel's wondrous tale 
To man, of Love Divine, 
That its blessing may increase and glow 
In this fair land of mine. 

*' * Not strangers — cliildren coming home 
To find a welcome free !' 
This is the tale that Africa 
Entrusted unto me. 

"And so, where'er my wings I fold, • 
I sing that all may know — 
And oft where there are none to hear — 
* Go ! preach the gospel ! go !' 



252 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 

" For all who live, so runs the rune 
That in God's works we trace, 
His watching love provides a use, 
And a fitting dwelling-place. 

" So, e'er we part to meet no more, 
Let us with loud acclaim 
Unite to praise the Lord our God, 
And magnify His name. 

" Ye winds and waters, lend your voice 
To swell the rich accord ; 
All creatures that His hand hath made. 
Praise ye, praise ye, the Lord." 
* * * * ^ * * 

After a pause, the Eagle said. 

With his broad pinions half outspread : 

" Thou blessed bird ! Oh, not in vain 
Is heard that constant eager strain : 
The message of a Love Divine 
Shall spread through all that land of thine, 
Until the powers of darkness fly 
Like Night before Day's glowing eye. 



To a Sea-GtclL 253 

" Oh yes ! 710 power has e'er withstood 
The quiet force of Love and Good : 
Slowly but surely on they speed, 
As springs toward heaven the tiny seed, 
And stretches wide its shade to bless 
The wanderers in the wilderness. 



''Sweet bird, still sing thy Heaven-taught lay 
Until shall dawn that glorious day, 
When, in the gospel truth made free, 
Thy land hath no more need of thee, 
Thou prophet voice ! who urges so, 

* Go ! preach the gospel ! go !' " 



To A Sea -Gull. 



White bird of the tempest! Oh, beautiful 

thing, 
With the bosom of snow, and the motionless 

wing; 



254 To a Sea-Gttll. 

Now sweeping the billow, now floating on 

high, 
Now bathing thy plumes in the light of the 

sky; 
Now poising o'er ocean thy delicate form, 
Now breasting the surge with thy bosom so 

warm; 
Now darting aloft with a heavenly scorn. 
Now shootmg along, like a ray of the morn ; 
Now lost in the folds of the cloud-curtained 

dome, 
Now floating abroad, like a flake of the foam; 
Now silently poised o'er the war of the main, 
Like the spirit of Charity brooding o'er pain; 
Now gliding with pinion all noiselessly furled, 
Like an angel descending to comfort the 

world ; — 
Thou seem'st to my fancy, as upward I gaze, 
And see thee, now clothed in the mellowest 

rays, 
Now lost in the storm-driven vapors, that fly, 
Like hosts that are routed, across the broad 

sky, 



To a Sea - Gull. 255 

Like a pure spirit true to its virtue, and faith, 
'Midst the tempests of nature, of passion, and 
death. 



Rise, beautiful emblem of purity, rise, 

On the sweet winds of heaven, to thine own 

brilliant skies, 
Still higher, still higher, till, lost to our sight, 
Thou hidest thy wings in a mantle of light, 
And I think how a bright spirit, gazing on 

thee, 
Must long for the moment, the joyous and 

free, 
When the soul, disembodied from nature, shall 

spring, 
Unfettered, at once to her Maker and King; 
When, the long day of service and suffering 

past. 
Shapes fairer than thine shall shine round her 

at last, 
While, the standard of battle triumphantly 

furled. 
She smiles like a victor serene on the world. 



256 Consider the Lilies. 

Consider the Lilies of the Field. 

Flowers preach to us if we will hear. 
The rose saith in the dewy morn, 

" I am most fair, 
Yet all my loveliness is borne 

Upon a thorn." 
The poppy saith, "Amid the corn 
Let but my scarlet head appear, 

And I am held in scorn ; 
Yet juice of subtle virtue hes 
Within my cup of curious dyes." 
The lilies say, " Behold how we 
Preach, without words, of purity !" 
The violets whisper from the shade 
Which their own leaves have made, 
*' Men scent our fragrance on the air, 
Yet take no heed 
Of humble lessons we would read.'* 

But not alone the fairest flowers : 

The merest grass 
Along the roadside where we pass. 



Praise -Meeting of the Flowers. 257 

Lichen, and moss, and sturdy weed, 
Tell of His love who sends the dew, 
The rain, and sunshine, too, 

To nourish one small seed. 



The Praise -Meeting of the 
Flowers. 

The flowers of many climates, 
That bloom all seasons through, 

Met in a stately garden 

Bright with the morning dew. 

For praise and loving worship 
The Lord they came to meet ; 

Her box of precious ointment 
The Rose brake at His feet. 

The Passion-flower His symbols 
Wore fondly on her breast; 

She spoke of self-denial 

As what might please Him best. 

17 



258 Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 

The Morning-glories fragile, 

Like infants soon to go, 
Had dainty, toy-like trumpets, 
And praised the Master so. 



*' His word is like to honey," 

The Clover testified, 
**And all who trust Thy promise 

Shall in Thy love abide." 

The Lilies said, "Oh, trust Him! 

We neither toil nor spin, 
And yet His house of beauty 

See how we enter in." 

The King-cup and her kindred 
Said, " Let us all be glad 

Of His redundant sunshine; 
Behold how we are clad!" 

"And let us follow Jesus," 

The Star of Bethlehem said. 
And all the band of flowers 
Bent down with reverent head. 



Praise 'Meeting of the Flowers. 259 

The glad Sun-flgwer answered, 

And little Daisies bright, 
And all the cousin Asters, 
"We follow toward the light!" 

"We praise Him for the mountains," 

The Alpine Roses cried; 
"We bless Him for the valleys," 

The Violets replied. 

"We praise Him," said the Air-plants, 

" For breath we never lack ;" 
"And for the rocks we praise Him," 
The Lichens answered back. 

" We praise God for the waters," 
The salt Sea-mosses sighed ; 
And all His baptized Lilies 
" Amen ! amen !" replied, 

" And for the cool green woodlands 
We praise and thanks return," 
Said Kalmias, and Azaleas, 
And graceful Feathery-fern. 



26o Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 

"And for the wealth of gardens, 
And all the gardener thinks," 
Said Roses, and Camellias, 

And all the sweet- breathed Pinks. 

" Hosanna in the highest !" 
The baby Bluets sang; 
And little trembling Harebells 



With softest music ran 



"The winter hath been bitter. 
But sunshine follows storm; 
Thanks for His loving-kindness. 
The Earth's great heart is warm." 

So sang the pilgrim's May-flower, 
That Cometh after snow — 

The humblest, and the sweetest. 
Of all the flowers that blow. 

"Thank God for every weather — 
The sunshine, and the wet," 
Spake out the cheering Pansies, 
And darling Mignonette. 



Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 261 

And then the sun descended, 
The heavens were all aglow; 

The little Morning-glories 
Had faded long ago. 

And now the bright day Lilies 

Their love-watch ceased to keep; 
He giveth," said the Poppies, 
"To His beloved, sleep." 

The gray of evening deepened, 
The soft wind stirred the corn. 

When, sudden, in the garden, 
Another flower was born. 

It was the Evening-primrose; 

Her sisters followed fast; 
With perfumed lips they whispered, 
"Thank God for night at last!" 



262 Consider the Lilies. 



Consider the Lilies. 

The welcome flowers are blossoming, 

In joyous troops revealed ; 
They lift their dewy buds, and bells, 

In garden, mead, and field; 
They lurk in every sunless path, 

Where forest children tread ; 
They dot, like stars, the sacred turf, 

Which lies above the dead. 

They sport with every playful wind. 

That stirs the blooming trees. 
And laugh on every fragrant bush. 

All full of toiling bees ; 
From the green marge of lake, and stream. 

Fresh vale, and mountain-sod. 
They look, in gentle glory, forth, 

The pure, sweet flowers of God. 

They come, with genial airs, and skies, 
In summer's golden prime, 



Consider the Lilies. 263 

And to the stricken world give back 

Lost Eden's blissful clime ; 
Outshining Solomon they come, 

And go full soon away, 
But yet, like him, they meekly breathe 

True wisdom while they stay. 

** If God," they whisper, " smiles on us. 

And bids us bloom, and shine. 
Does he not mark, O faithless man ! 

Each wish, and want, of thine? 
Think, too, what joys await in heaven 

The blest of human birth. 
When rapture, such as woos thee now, 

Can reach the bad on earth !" 

Redeemer of a fallen race, 

Most merciful of kings, 
Thy hallowed words have clothed with power 

Those frail and beauteous things ; 
All taught by Thee, they yearly speak 

Their message of deep love. 
Bidding us fix, for life, and death, 

Our hearts, and hopes, above. 



264 Trees. 



Evening Thought. 

The evening zephyr, on its wings, 
The sigh of recollection brings 

For days, and seasons, past; 
And with it, too, a voice it bears : 
"Trust to your God your hopes, and cares^ 
Your fears^ your comforts, and your prayers^ 

While days, and seasons, last." 



Trees. 

A CONSTANT joy of eye, and ear, 

O stately trees ! are ye, 
Whether, with tapering branches bare, 
Ye shiver in the wintry air, 

Or in spring's vigorous ecstasy 

Your leaflets laugh in glee. 

When all the earth is white with snow. 
And with a mighty hand 



Trees. 265 

The Storm-king sweeps each trembling bough 
Until the mournful murmurs grow 

To diapasons, swelling grand 

Through all the listening land, 

Then throbs my heart with keen delight. 

Like you, the storms I dare; 
Like you, I struggle toward the light, 
Though oft, in some tempestuous night. 

My soul has shivered, weak, and bare. 

In sorrowful despair. 

When fled is winter's numbing cold. 

And beneath skies serene 
You feel life's pulses manifold 
Strive upward, until, all unrolled. 

Each leaflet waves its tender green 

In the sun's golden sheen, 

Then to my heart your whispers mild 

Instill a hopeful faith; 
All vain regrets, all longings v/ild, 
Are hushed, and, like a wearied child, 



2 66 Aittumn in the Woods. 

Who smiles amid his sobbing breath, 
I watch life conquer death. 

And when, in glorious autumn days, 

I mark your rich estate. 
As if the sun, through sumptuous haze. 
Had bathed you in his setting blaze, 

To crown and consecrate. 

While tranquilly you wait, 

I catch from you a courage high ; 

And as your leaves I see, 
It seems as it were grand to die 
While duties done behind us lie, 
And, rich in holiest virtues, we 
Drop gently from life's tree. 



Autumn in the Woods. 

Every hollow full of ferns. 
Turning yellow in their turns; 



Autumn in the Woods, 267 

Straggling brambles, fierce, and wild, 
Yielding berries to the child; 
Oakballs tumbling fi-om the tree, 
Beech-nuts dropping silently; 
Hosts of leaves come down to die. 
Leaving openings to the sky- 
Bluebells, foxgloves, gone to seed. 
Everything to death decreed ; 
Nothing left of flowers, or buds; — 
Such is autumn in the woods. 



And so is there an autumn known 

To the heart. It feels alone. 

Fearing its best days are past; 

Sees the future overcast; 

Fond acquaintance broken through ; 

Friends departed, friends untrue ; 

Human flowers, cold, and dead, 

Covered by a grassy bed ; 

Hopes, late blossoms putting out, 

Withering soon, and flung about 

By cruel winds ; dread doubts, and fears. 

Finding vent in sudden tears; 



268 The AuHcmn Forest 

Yes, there is an autumn, known 
To some hearts thus left alone. 

Yet, there's this thought, after all: 
Ferns may fade, and leaves may fall. 
Hearts may change, or prove untrue. 
All may look as these woods do. 
Though sad autumn here is given, 
Spring-time waits the just in heaven. 



The Autumn Forest. 

Resplendent hues are thine. 
Triumphant beauty, glorious as brief, 
Burdening with holy love the heart's pure 
shrine, 

Till tears afford relief. 

What though thy depths be hushed? 
More eloquent in breathless silence thou 
Than when the music of glad songsters gushed 

From every green-robed bough. 



The Atitumn Forest. 269 

Gone from thy walks the flowers ! 
Thou askest not their forms thy paths to 

fleck; 
The dazzHng radiance of these sunHt bowers 
Their hues could not bedeck. 

I love thee in the spring, 
Earth-crowning forest, when, amid thy shades. 
The gentle south first waves her odorous 
wing. 

And joy fills all the glades. 

In the hot summer-time 
With deep delight thy sombre aisles I roam, 
Or, soothed by some cool brook's melodious 
chime. 

Rest on thy verdant loam. 

But oh, when autumn's hand 
Hath marked thy beauteous foliage for the 

grave, 
How doth thy splendor, as, entranced, I stand. 
My willing heart enslave! 



270 The Fallen Leaf. 

I linger, then, with thee, 
Like some fond lover o'er his stricken bride, 
Whose bright, unearthly beauty tells that she 

Here may not long abide. 

When my last hours are come. 
Great God! ere yet life's span shall all be 

filled. 
And these warm lips in death be ever dumb. 

This beating heart be stilled. 

Bathe Thou in hues as blest; 
Let gleams of heaven about my spirit play. 
So shall my soul to its eternal rest 

In glory pass away. 



The Fallen Leaf. 

Silent leaf of autumn. 
Dropping from the bough, 

What a tender teacher 
Of the truth art thou! 



The Fallen Leaf. 271 

Upon thee is written 

Wisdom deep and true, 
More than many sages 

Ever taught, or knew. 

Under thee are hidden 

Mysteries divine, 
All thy life a lesson. 

And thy death a sign. 

Thou hast done thy duty 

Where thy lot was laid. 
Decked thy tree with beauty, 

Comforted with shade. ^ 

Over life's beginnings. 

In each tender shoot, 
Over bud and blossom. 

Over swelling fruit. 

Warding off the tempest 

That against thee beat, 
Softening the sunshine's 

Too excessive heat. ^-. 



272 The Fallen Leaf, 

Outer air inspiring, 
Light and gentle dew 

Drinking in, life's being 
Daily to renew. 

Breathing back its perfume 
From the secret cells 

Where thy hidden gladness 
Delicately dwells. 

Underneath thy shelter 
Lay the downy nest; 

Beasts in summer noontides 
Came to thee for rest. 

Happy hearts, and voices, 
Rang in youthful glee, 

Playing 'neath the shadow 
Of thy stately tree, 

While the old, and weary, 
Rested in the shade 

Which the whispering thousands 
Of thy kindred made. 



The Fallen Leaf. 273 

One, amid those thousand 

Thousands of thy kind, 
Underneath thee only 

None could shelter find. 

But love's sweet communion 

Made the perfect bough, 
And a part essential 

Of its wealth wast thou. 

Now J thy Springtide over, 

Now, thy Summer fled. 
Thou art gently gathered 

Down amid the dead, 

Falling with soft rustle 

On their mother's breast. 
Very little bustle 

Laying thee to rest. 

Sad autumnal sighings 

Now for burial lay 
Thee with the companions 

Of thy summer day. 

18 



274 The Fall 671 Leaf, 

And the feet of heedless 

Daily passers-by 
In thy grave compose thee 

All unconsciously. 

Yet thy death is thoughtful: 
Life, that never dies, 

Hath its claim upon thee, 
And thou shalt arise. 

Wrapped around the fibres 
Of that stately tree. 

Once more with its being 
Mingled thou shalt be. 

Till the time appointed 
Waiting in the dust — 

Waiting in the quiet 
Confidence of trust 

Till the angel-trumpet 

Of God's spring shall call. 

Of thy resurrection 
Sure as of thy fall. 



The Fallen Leaf, 275 

Silent leaf of autumn, 
Dropping from the bough, 

What a touching teacher 
Of God's truth art thou ! 

Though to human senses 

Passionless and dumb, 
How the life that now is 

Talks of that to come ! 

Teaching truths mysterious 
From what round us lies. 

And, through earthly shadows. 
Heaven's realities ; 

Preaching better sermons, 

To the point more near. 
Than it is one's fortune 

Oft from men to hear; 

Home to the affections 

Striking straight and true, 

Until souls believe them, 
And, believing, do ; 



276 The Fallen Leaf. 

Life, with its beginnings, 
Waking out of death 

At the gentle stirrings 
Of the Spirit's breath; 

Life, with its renewals, 
Daily, fresh, and free. 

Fed by its communion 
With the living Tree; 

Life, with all the duties 
Of life's mystic plan, 

Giving, and receiving. 
Gifts for God, and man; 

Life, with the resigning 
Of its sacred trust. 

Laying down its body, 
Hopeful, in the dust, 

Certain of the morning. 
When it shall awake, 

And the glorious body 
Of its Saviour take; 



Leafless Tj^ees. 277 

Certain of the springtide, 

When it shall arise, 
And in better beauty 

Blossom for the skies. 

Silent leaf of autumn, 

Dropping from thy tree. 
These the sacred lessons 

That I learn from thee. 

Train me, O my Father! 

m 

In their Heavenly lore ; 
On unto perfection 
Lead me evermore. 



Leafless Trees. 

"These leafless trees," said Thoreau, "remind one of a 
tempted soul, who, through long delay and many struggles, 
will yet come forth from his temptation." — " Rather," said 
his companion, "they are like the tried and afflicted soul, 
who comes in darkness to the close of life, but will soon 
emerge into the brightness and glory of heaven." 

Leafless, and stripped, all bare, yet whole, 
They symbolize the Christian's soul. 



278 Leafless Trees. 

Whose earthly course is wellnigh o'er, 

Waiting for entrance at the door. 

A living verdure underlies 

What seems so dead to mortal eyes, 

Though what they seem, or what have been, 

Is naught, so there is life within. 

Their roots are grounded, strong, and firm, 
'Gainst autumn's blast, or winter's storm, 
And well defined their outlines lie 
Against the background of the sky, 
A type most plain, for all to see. 
Of what the Christian's life should be; 
Distinct and clear, that all may trace 
His shadow and abiding-place. 

Ah, leafless trees ! to every heart 

A faithful lesson ye impart ; 

The budding of your early spring, 

Your summer days of blossoming, 

The flushing of your autumn dyes. 

Ne'er brought you quite so near the skies 

As now, when, desolate, ye seem 

Against the heaven itself to lean. 



Leafless Trees. 279 

Thus all life's crowns are cast aside, 
All ornaments of human pride, 
When, passing underneath the rod, 
Naked we stand in sight of God; 
Not blasted, only stripped, and bare, 
That we may know how frail we are. 
And that our strength again must flow 
From Him whose touch has laid us low. 

Though leafless now, and stripped, and bared, 

Your symmetry is still unmarred, 

And mutely, through the silent air, 

Each branch is upward stretched, in prayer 

To Him who, with a Father's eye, 

Still watches o'er it from the sky, 

And from His storehouse forth will bring 

Fresh verdure at the touch of spring. 

Though now keen, wintry winds may blow, 

And every branch be wrapped in snow. 

Still are ye, to the Father's sight, 

All beauteous, in your robes of white; 

Or if the rain, with chilling breeze. 

In gems on every branch shall freeze, 



28o Leafless Trees. 

Beaming to thousand wondering eyes 
The rainbow's heaven-illumined dyes, 

Still shall that diamond frost-work bright 
Gleam glorious in the Father's sight; 
And when this icy coat of death 
Shall yield before the south wind's breath, 
Melting into the hardened bole, 
As melts God's word into the soul, 
Then shall ye all your strength renew, 
When spring's bright sunshine beams anew. 

Blest Spirit! let the leafless tree 
But whisper of the life in Thee, 
Humbly the lesson may we take 
In all to live for Christ's dear sake; 
Give Him the blossoms of our spring; 
To Him our first-fruits ever bring — 
Our summer strength, in all its prime, 
And glory of our autumn-time. 

Or if we stand beneath His eye. 

As leafless trees against the sky, 

Then, stripped of self, and shorn of pride, 

In Him we'll trust, the Crucified, 



The Works of God. 281 

And to His shelter ever go, 

When storms of life, or death, shall blow. 

So shall Thy providence impart 

A lesson blest to every heart; 

So shall we feel Thy gracious word, 
So little known, so often heard, 
Impressed, as with a power anew, 
To quicken us Thy will to do, 
That, when o'erpast life's wintry woes, 
In Heaven we'll blossom as the rose, 
And there, as trees of life, may bring. 
Our fruits of endless offering. 



The Works of God. 

How beautiful are all the works of God ! 

How beautiful His dealings with the heart ! 
There was a time when o'er the earth I trod 

With eyes unseeing; when I dwelt apart 
From all life's mysteries, and knew no care, 
Nor felt the strong necessity of prayer. 



282 The Works of God, 

There was a time when joy was in the hght, 
When day, with its glad beamings, made 
my bhss; 
When there was mournful beauty in the night. 

And in the grave a terrible abyss ; 
SucJi time hath passed ; all things are changed 

to me; 
Tis well, my God! for I am nearer Thee. 

Ay, God hath dealt with me! He hath gone 
down 

Into the silent slumbers of my heart, 
And made me feel my immortality, and thrown 

A spell around me, which may ne'er depart; 
Tides of immortal joy within me roll — 
Joy that subdues and sanctifies the soul. 

How long must I await the gentle call 

Which bids me to the presence of Thy love? 

Earth hath her charms, but I can leave them 
all 
To dwell with Thee, eternally, above. 

How the worn dove will weary for its home ! 

Shall it be long, dear Father, ere I come? 



IV. 



CHAMBER OF SICKNESS 



Chamber of Sickness. 



Here am /. 



My will would like a life of ease, 
And power to do, and time to rest, 

And health, and strength, my will would 
please. 
But, Lord, I know Thy will is best. 

If I have strength to do Thy will. 

That should be power enough for me, 

Whether to work, or to lie still. 

The appointment of the day may be. 

And if, by sickness, I may grow 
More patient, holy, and resigned. 

Strong health I need not wish to know. 
And greater ease I cannot find. 

285 



286 Beneath His Wmg. 

Lord, I have given my life to Thee, 
And every day, and hour, is Thine; 

What Thou appointest let them be; 
Thy will is better. Lord, than mine. 



Beneath His Wing. 

I COME, I rest beneath 

The shadow of Thy wing, 

That I may know 

How good it is 

There to abide. 
How safe its sheltering. 



I lean upon the cross 

When fainting by the way; 
It bears my weight. 
It holds me up. 
It cheers my soul, 

It turns my night to day. 



Beneath His Wing. 287 

I clasp the outstretched hand 
Of my delivering Lord; 
Upon His arm 
I lean myself; 
His arm divine 
Doth surest help afford. 



I hear the gracious words 
He speaketh to my soul; 
They whisper rest, 
They banish fear, 
They say, " Be strong !'* 
They make my spirit whole. 



I look, and live, and love; 
I listen to the voice 
Saying to me 
That God is love. 
That God is light; 
I listen, and rejoice. 



288 Called Aside, 

Called Aside. 

" I have somewhat to say unto you." 

Called aside! 
From the glad working of thy busy life, 
From the world's ceaseless stir of care and 
. strife, 
Into the shade and stillness, by thy heavenly 

Guide, 
For a brief space thou hast been called aside. 

Laid aside ! 
May not the little cup of suffering be 
A loving one of blessing given to thee, 
The cross of chastening, sent thee from above 
By Him who bore the cross, whose name is 

Love? 

Called aside ! 
Hast thou no memories of that *' little while"? 
No sweet remembrance of thy Father's smile? 
No hidden thoughts, that wrapped thee in 

their hold, 
Of Him who did such light and grace unfold ? 



Called Aside, 289 

Called aside 
In hidden paths with Christ thy Lord toJ:read, 
Deeper to drink at the sweet Fountain-head, 
Closer in fellowship with Him to roam, 
Nearer, perchance, to feel thy heavenly home. 

Called aside! 
We thank Thee for the stillness and the 

shade ; 
We thank Thee for the hidden paths Thy 

love hath made, 
And so, that we have watched and wept with 

Thee, 
We thank Thee for our dark Gethsemane. 

Called aside ! 
Oh, restful thought! He doeth all things 

well! 
Oh, blessed sense! With Christ alone to 

dv/ell ! 
So, in the shadow of Thy cross to hide, 
We thank Thee, Lord, to have been called 

aside. 

19 



290 Clmging to Thee, 



Clinging to Thee. 

Holy Saviour, Friend unseen, 
Since on Thine arm Thou bidd'st me lean, 
Help me throughout life's varying scene 
By faith to cling to Thee. 

Blest with this fellowship divine, 

Take what Thou wilt: I'll ne'er repine; 

E'en as the branches to the vine, 

My soul would cling to Thee. 

Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed, 
Here she hath found her place of rest, 
An exile still, yet not unblessed. 

While she can cling to Thee. 



Without a murmur I dismiss 

My former dreams of earthly bliss, 

My joy, my consolation, this, 

Each hour to cling to Thee. 



Clinging to Thee, 291 

What though the world deceitful prove, 
And earthly friends, and joys, remove ? 
With patient, uncomplaining love 

Still would I cling; to Thee. 



Oft, when I seem to tread alone 

Some barren waste, with thorns o'ergrown, 

Thy voice of love, in tenderest tone, 

Whispers, "Still cling to me." 

Though faith, and hope, a while be tried, 
I ask not, need not, aught beside ; 
How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 

The soul that clings to Thee! 



Blest is my lot, whate'er befall; 
What can disturb me, what appall, 
While as my Rock, my Strength, my All, 
Saviour, I cling to Thee? 



292 He Knoweth Best. 



He Knoweth Best. 

I WOULD not vainly choose 
What road shall lead me up the holy moun- 
tain, 
What path conduct me to the crystal fountain, 

Nor willing be to lose 
The guidance of the Hand that e'er has led 
In ways I knew not, but with mercies spread. 

When I am called to die. 
To yield my spirit to His sacred keeping, 
To rest my body in the long, long sleeping, 

I fain would not belie 
My trust in Him who doeth all things well, 
Whose will alone my every wish should quell. 

If gentle be the call, 
If faint, and feeble, be the distant warning, 
Like dimmest daystreak of the early morning, 

Tipping the pine tree tall. 
And brighter growing, till the red east shines 
With fullest glory on the glowing pines, 



He Knoweth Best. 293 

How grateful should I feel 
That I might still behold my loved ones 

longer ; 
Might tarry till my timid faith grew stronger; 

Might linger to reveal 
The loves that buoyant life can ne'er unveil, 
Like odors evening only can exhale. 

If sudden be the stroke, 
If all unheralded his solemn coming, 
Like flash, fast followed by the thunder's 
booming, 

That scathes the skyward oak. 
While, pale with fear, we hold our bated 

breath. 
In awe of the swift messenger of Death, 

How blest the favored lot — 
A lot to few departing spirits given- 
Painless to pass from earth, and sin, to heaven 1 

Oh, surely it were not 
Departure we should dread, at once to rise, 
On whirlwind pinions, to the opening skies. 



294 ^^ Stinted my Nest. 

So I repose my trust; 
And whether speedy messenger obeying, 
Or waiting patiently my Lord's delaying, 

To summon me to rest, 
On His dear love my willing trust would 

dwell ; 
He knoweth best: He doeth all things well. 



He Stirred my Nest. 

As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her 
young, spreadeth abroad her wings, so the Lord alone did 
lead him. — Deut. xxxii. Ii, 12. 

Calmly reposing in my downy nest, 
I had forgotten earth is not my rest, 
Until, disturbed, I saw a gracious Hand 
Point upward to a brighter, happier land. 

He stirred my nest; then, fluttering o'er my 

head, 
I saw His radiant wings benignly spread. 
To bear me up, from earthly scenes, on high, 
To purer regions, and a cloudless sky. 



He Stirred my Nest. 295 

'Twas hard to find no foothold 'neath the sun, 
But soon I found my hfe of bHss begun ; 
A world of unseen joys, untold delight, 
Revealed its glories to my raptured sight. 

My broken nest forsaken, on those wings 
Upborne, my spirit mounts, and sweetly sings; 
Victorious over all her foes she soars, 
And glorious unknown realms of light ex- 
plores. 

I had slept on, nor ever felt, or known, 
The perfect bliss of loving God alone, 
Of being borne upon His wings on high, 
Had He not taught me thus to rise, and fly. 

Had not my nest been stirred, and sorrows 

deep. 
And grief, and pain, disturbed my carnal sleep, 
I had not known this pure, heartfelt delight: 
^Tivas love, unbounded love, that forced my 

flight. 



296 All, All is Known to Thee, 

Oh, now a wide expanse, boundless, sublime, 
Stretches before my sight, and earth, and time, 
Seem but a point, a bubble on the stream. 
While on my soul celestial glories beam. 

O'erwhelmed with wondering joy, and filled 

with praise, 
I now exult in grateful, ceaseless lays 
To Him whose love amazing stooped to me. 
And "stirred my nest," and set my spirit free. 



All, All is Known to Thee. 

When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou 
knewest my path. — Psalm cxlii. 3. 

My God, whose gracious pity I may claim, 
Calling Thee Father — sweet, endearing name — 
The sufferings of this weak, and weary, frame, 
All, all are known to Thee. 

From human eye 'tis better to conceal 
Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel ; 



All^ All is Know7i to Thee. 297 

But oh, the thought does tranquihze, and heal, 
All, all is known to Thee. 



Each secret conflict with indwelling sin, 
Each sickening fear I ne'er the prize shall win, 
Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din, 
All, all are known to Thee. 

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned, 
Each drop that fills my daily cup ; Thy hand 
Prescribes for ills none else can understand; 
All, all is known to Thee. 

Nor will the bitter draught distasteful prove 
When I recall the Son of Thy dear love ; 
The cup Thou wouldst not for our sakes re- 
move, 

That cup He drank for me. 

And welcome, precious, can His Spirit make 
My little drop of suffering for His sake; 
Father, the cup I drink, the path I take : 
All, all is known to Thee. 



298 Words of CoinforL 



Words of Comfort. 

I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you. — 
John xiv. 18. 

" I WILL not leave you comfortless " ! 
His promise is so sweet, 
It lasteth through life's wintry blast, 
. Through summer's scorching heat. 

" I will not leave you comfortless " ! 
O weary pilgrim ! hear 
That sweet, soft strain of sympathy, 
That stays the rising tear. 

" I will not leave you comfortless," 
Although I may deem best 
To try your strength, your faith, your love, 
By my severest test. 

"I will not leave you comfortless" 
Till the mists all fade away. 
Till the darkness of your soul shall melt 
Into the perfect day. 



Jesits, my Savioitr, look on Me. 299 

" I will not leave you comfortless " ! 
These words are strong and true; 
Oh, listen, then, to Jesus, 

For He speaketh them to you. 



yEsus, MY Saviour, look on Me. 

Jesus, my Saviour, look on me. 

For I am weary, and oppressed; 
I come to cast my soul on Thee: 
Thou art my rest. 

Look down on me, for I am weak; 

I feel the toilsome journey's length ; 
Thine aid omnipotent I seek : 
Thou art my strength. 

I am bewildered on my way; 

Dark, and tempestuous, is the night; 
Oh, shed Thou forth some cheering ray : 
Thou art my ligJit. 



300 Jesus, my Saviotcr, look on Me, 

Why feel I desolate, and lone? 

Thy praises should my thoughts employ ; 
Thy presence can pure gladness dawn: 
Thou art vi\y joy. 

Thou hast on me so much bestowed, 

Surely I may relinquish health ; 
Thou'st made me rich — yea, rich toward God: 
Thou art my wealth, 

I hear the storms around me rise ; 

But when I dread the impending shock. 
My spirit to her refuge flies : 
Thou art my rock. 

Vain is all human help for me; 

I dare not trust an earthly prop; 
My sole reliance is on Thee : 
Thou art my hope. 

Full many a conflict must be fought; 

But shall I perish ? shall I yield ? 

Is that bright motto given for naught, 

*'Thou art my shield'' ? 



Memorials. 301 

Standing alone on Jordan's brink 
In that tremendous latest strife, 
Thou wilt not suffer me to sink: 
Thou art my life. 

Thou wilt my every want supply; 
E'en to the end, whate'er befall, 
Through life, in death, eternally, 
Thou art my all. 



Memorials. 

This life is but a school-time. 
In which we learn to love 

The friends we see around us, 
The unseen God above. 

Some learn by active service. 
Others in grief and pain; 

Some seem to reap in gladness, 
The rest to toil in vain. 



302 Memorials. 

The great thing is to study, 

To see our Lord in all, 
His great love to remember, 

Whatever may befall. 

We know the blessed story 
Of how He came to save. 

And lived as man among us 
From childhood to the grave. 

And earth has now her tokens 
That He has touched with light; 

Memorials of His kindness 
Are ever in our sight. 

And pain, and weakness, make Him 
Nearer, and dearer, seem, 

Till life becomes a story, 
Of which He is the theme. 

When nurses gently 'tend us, 

When loved ones give their hands. 

When kind physicians cheer us, 
Or friend with chalice stands, — ■ 



The Single Head of Wheat. 303 

In each we may discover 

The Hkeness of our Lord, 
Who soothes our bed of sickness, 

According to His word. 



Oh, then, in joy, or sorrow, 
Whatever may befall. 

Let us our Lord remember, 
And see His love in all. 



The Single Head of Wheat. 

All my daily tasks were ended, 
And the hush of night had come. 

Bringing rest to weary spirits. 
Calling many wanderers home. 

* He that goeth forth with weeping, 
Bearing golden grains of wheat, 
Shall return again rejoicing, 

Laden with the harvest sweet." 



304 The Single Head of Wheat. 

This I read, and deeply pondered 
What of seed my hand had sown, 

What of harvest I was reaping 
To be laid before the Throne. 

While my thoughts were swiftly glancing 
O'er the paths my feet had trod, 

Sleep sealed up my weary eyelids. 
And a vision came from God. 

In the world's great field of labor 
All the reapers' tasks were done; 

Each one hastened to the Master 
With the sheaves that he had won. 

Some, with sheaves so poor, and scanty. 

Sadly told the number o'er; 
Others staggered 'neath the burden 

Of the golden grain they bore. 

Gladly then the pearly gateway 

Opened wide to let them in, 
As they sought the Master's presence 

With their burdens, rich, and thin. 



The Single Head of Wheat. 305 

Slowly, sadly, with the reapers 
Who had labored long, and late, 

Came /, at the Master's bidding, 
And was latest at the gate. 

Then, apart from all the others. 

Weeping bitterly, I stood ; 
I had toiled from early morning. 

Working for the others' good. 

When one friend had fallen, fainting, 

By his piles of golden grain, 
With a glass of cooling water 

I revived his strength again. 

And another, worn, and weary, 

I had aided for a while, 
Till, her failing strength returning, 

She went onward with a smile. 

Thus the others I had aided 

While the golden moments fled. 

Till the day was spent, and evening 

O'er the earth her teardrops shed. 
20 



3o6 The Single Head of Wheat. 

And I to the Master's presence 
Came with weary, toil-worn feet, 

Bringing as my gathered harvest 
But a single head of wheat. 

So with tearful eyes I watched them, 
As with faces glad, and bris^ht. 

One by one they laid their burdens 
Down before the throne of light. 

Ah ! how sweetly then the blessing 
Sounded to my listening ear! — 
" Nobly done, my faithful servants ! 
Rest now in your mansion here." 

Then I thought, with keenest sorrow, 
"Words like these are not for me; 
Only those with heavy burdens 
Heavenly rest, and blessing, see. 

" Yet I love the Master truly, 

And I've labored hard since dawn, 
But I have no heavy burden ; 
Will he bid me to be gone ?" 



The Single Head of Wheat. 307 

While I questioned thus in sadness, 

Christ the Master called for me, 
And I knelt before Him, saying, 
" I have only this for Thee. 

" I have labored hard, O Master ! 

I have toiled from morn till night, 
But I sought to aid my neighbors. 
And to make their labors light. 

" So the day has passed unnoticed, 
And to-night with shame I come, 
Bringing as my gathered harvest 
But a single wheat-head home." 

Then I laid it down with weeping 

At His blessed, pierced feet. 
And He smiled upon my trembling: 

Ah ! His smile was passing sweet. 

** Child, it is enough," he answered ; 
"All I asked for thou hast brought. 
And among the band of reapers 
Truly, bravely, hast thou wrought. 



3o8 The Single Head of Wheat 

"This was thine appointed mission; 
Well hast thou fulfilled the task; 
Have no fear that I will chide thee ; 
This is all that I could ask." 

Then I woke; but long the vision 
In my heart I pondered. o'er, 

While I tried to see the meaning 
Hidden in its depths it bore. 

And at length this lesson slowly 
Dawned upon my wondering mind 

Never mind what others gather; 
Do whate'er thy hand can find. 

If it be thy 'lotted mission 
Thus to serve the reaper-band, 

And the evening find thee weary, 
With an empty, sheafless hand, 

Let thy heart be never troubled; 

Faithfully fulfil thy task; 
Tremble not before the Master: 

Heavy sheaves He will not ask. 



Knozv Thyself. 309 

Know Thyself. 

When gentle twilight sits on day's forsaken 
throne, 

'Mid the sweet hush of eventide muse by 
thyself alone ; 

And at the time of rest, ere sleep asserts its 
power, 

Hold pleasant converse with thyself in med- 
itation's bower. 

Not on the outer world for inward joy de- 
pend: 

Enjoy the luxury of thought; make thine 
own self thy friend ; 

Not with the restless throng in search of sol- 
ace roam, 

But with an independent zeal be intimate at 
home. 

Good company have they who by themselves 

do walk. 
If they have learned on blessed themes with 

their own souls to talk. 



3IO The Sec7^et Spring. 

For they shall never feel of dull enmii the 

power, 
Nor penury, or loneliness, shall haunt their 

hall, or bower. 

Drink waters from the fount that in thy bo- 
som springs. 

And envy not the mingled draughts of sa- 
traps, or of kings ; 

So shalt thou find at last, far from the giddy 
brain. 

Self-knowledge, and self-culture, lead to un- 
computed gain. 



The Secret Spring. 

The gentle moon was silvering 
The outline of the trees; 

A lullaby of Nature 

Was whispered in the breeze; 

'Twas not a time for talking, 
Or speculations high : 



The Secret Spring. 3 1 r. 

I wanted to be quiet, 
And hear that lullaby. 



I wanted to be silent, 

And watch the waving grass 
So gracefully inclining 

To let the breezes pass ; 
It seemed to grow in beauty. 

The more it bowed its head, 
Like penitential murmurs 

On saintly dying-bed. 

I marvelled at its beauty, 

So manifold, so sweet, 
Like rainbow colors, blending 

In harmony complete ; 
And while I looked, and wondered 

What made it grow so high. 
The question rose within me. 

Is there a hid supply? 

For it was taller, fairer. 
Than all the grass around ; 



3 1 2 The Secret Spring. 

What made it thus to differ 

From cumberers of the ground? 

At last the whispering breezes 
This answer seemed to bring 

(Its echoes rang within me) : 
"There is a hidden spring. 

"You cannot see the waters 

By which the grass is fed ; 
You cannot see the brooklet 

Within its Httle bed; 
You cannot even hear it, 

So quiet is its flow; 
And yet those hidden waters 

Have made the grass to grow." 

Then planted by the waters, 

O Saviour ! let me be, 
That I may thus be fruitful, 

And glory bring to Thee. 
Not unto me be glory : 

TJiy praises would I sing; 
Yes ! for the grass were nothing 

Without the hidden spring. 



Watch for the Morning. 3 1 3 



Watch for the Morning. 

Watcher, 'tis dark, and thy dwelling is lonely ; 
The night-lamp shines dimly, and so does 
thine eye; 
Thou art thinking thy portion is wretched- 
ness only, 
Disheartened, despairing, and longing to die. 

Watcher, look out where the daystar is dawn- 
ing; 
Hope in thy soul let its promise awake. 
And sleepless, though weary, still wait for 
the morning : 
Never a night but the morning shall break. 

Wanderer, 'tis dark, and the tempest is roar- 
ing 
Wildly above thee, and raging around; 
Terrors, and dangers, their vials are pouring 
Right on thy pathway, where quicksands 
abound. 



3 1 4 Watch for the Morning. 

Wanderer, 'tis better to bow than to bide it; 
Harmlessly o'er thee the Storm-king shall 
ride; 
Deep yawns the chasm: it were death to be- 
stride it; 
Pass on where the valley is sloping and 
wide. 

Weeper, 'tis dark, for the angel of sorrow 
Hath spread o'er the landscape the gloom 
of his wing; 
No hue from the rainbow thy sadness can 
borrow, 
No joy to thy bosom the springtime can 
bring. 

Weeper, despair not; there is that can cure 
thee; 
Yes, e'en to the heartsick a balm can be 
given — 
A draught that shall comfort, and gladness, 
ensure thee ; 
Drink deeply, drink freely; its fount is in 
heaven. 



Quietly Rest, 3 1 5 

O ye who are suffering, and toiling, and sigh- 
in o* 
Who in darkness of spirit are groping your 
way, 
Who are weary of hoping, and trusting, and 
trying, 
Who are sure that your midnight can never 
be day, — 

Look forth where the daystar of promise is 
dawning; 
Stand fast by your duty, your God, and the 
right; 
And patient, and faithful, thus watch for the 
morning, 
Assured it shall bring you both healing 
and light. 



Quietly Rest, 



Quietly rest in the arms of affection, 
That Heaven extends to the weary and 
worn ; 



J 



1 6 Quietly Rest, 



Sweetly repose in the Father's protection, 
Who bade the lone wanderer to Jesus re- 
turn. 

Quietly rest when afflictions attend thee, 

And cast every care on the bosom of love; 
Jesus can cause e'en thy griefs to befriend 
thee, 
While blessings unnumbered descend from 
above. 

Quietly rest e'en in sickness and sorrow; 

When energies fail thee in body, or mind, 
Rest on the thought of eternity's morrow. 

With every interest to Jesus resigned. 

Quietly rest; for whate'er may betide thee, 
The Shepherd of Israel will keep thee from 
harm; 
No truly good thing has been ever denied 
thee: 
»Rest on the promise, and feel no alarm. 



Airs Well. 317 



All's Well. 

The day is ended ! Ere I sink to sleep, 

My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine; 
Father, forgive my trespasses, and keep 
This little life of mine. 

With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed, 

And cool; in rest, my burning pilgrim feet; 
Thy pardon be the pillow for my head ; 
So shall my sleep be sweet. 

At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and 
Thee, 
No fears my soul's unwavering faith can 
shake ; 
AlVs well, whichever side the grave for me 
The morning light may break. 



3i8 God Ever Near. 



God Ever Near. 

When faded lie life's early flowers, 

And shadows darkly fall, 
Whence comes the light that cheers the hours, 

And makes them best of all ? 

As, treading down life's weary length. 

Our limbs more tottering grow, 
Who is it gives triumphant strength 

In faith, and peace, to go? 

Ah ! vainly shall the powers of earth 

The immortal soul assail ; 
Leaning on Him who gave it birth. 

O'er all it shall prevail. 

So thou whose heart is sorely tried, 

Whose path is marked by pain. 
Thou hast One ever by thy side 

Who will through all sustain. 



Past and Present, 319 

"God ever near"! What words are these 

To brace the sinking soul ! 
" God ever near " ! How brief our woes 

If He the griefs console! 

May He be near, and nearer yet, 

Until, as falls the night, 
Thy earthly sun in peace shall set, 

To rise in heaven's clear light. 



Past and Present. 

The day of busy life is passed; 

The day of quiet thought is iioiv ; 
And which is better, first, or last f 

Tell me, my soul ; what thinkest thou ? 

Oh, is not evening's deep repose 
More beautiful, and far more sweet. 

Than dewy morning, when it rose 
In smiles so sparkling, and so fleet? 



320 A Thought. 

And hushed as evening's quietness, 

Refreshing as its balmy air, 
Is sickness, in its power to bless 

The soul that lives in faith, and prayer. 

And death — that strangely solemn sleep, 

So full of awe, and mystery, 
The last step down life's shelving steep, 

The plunge into obscurity — 

May haply prove, like starry night, 
For rest, and revelation, given. 

Which out of darkness bringeth light — 
Shows less of earth, and mo7'e of heaven. 



A Thought. 



Oh, 'tis a thought most precious, 
While journeying here below. 

The pathway all unknowing 
In which our steps must go, 



A Thought. 321 

That there's a Guide unerring, 

Who knoweth all the way, 
And who'll direct our footsteps, 

Alike both night and day. 



We must not ask His reasons, 

We dare not doubt His love, 
But take whate'er He sendeth. 

As bidden from above; 
And then life's daily crosses. 

And blessings too, will seem 
As ways His wisdom taketh 

From danger to redeem. 



So we will fear no evil. 

But take that guiding hand. 

Follow that gentle leading. 
Obey that kind command ; 

Him in all things acknowledge. 
Walk in His holy light. 

Till earth be left for heaven, 

And " faith exchanged for sight.' 
21 



32 2 * Psalm xvi. 5. 

Psalm xvi. 5. 

" Thou maintainest my lot." 

Source of my life's refreshing springs, 
Whose presence in my heart sustains me, 

Thy love appoints me pleasant things, 
Thy mercy orders all that pains me. 

Well may Thy happy children cease 
From restless wishes, prone to sin, 

And, in Thy own exceeding peace, 
Yield to Thy daily discipline. 

We need as much the cross we bear 
As air we breathe, as light we see; 

It draws us to Thy side in prayer. 
It binds us to our strength in Thee. 



V. 



CLOSET OF PRAYER 



CLOSET OF PRAYER. 



The Closet of Prayer. 

Thou sacred haven, where the storm-tossed mind 

Support and peace may find ! 
Ark of our refuge when life's billows roll 

Around the struggling soul ! 
When sin assails, oh whither can we flee 

Except we come to thee? 
In joy or sorrow thy serene retreat 

Quiets the heart's wild beat; 
And though on earth we yet must linger, thus 

Heaven draws near to us. 

Wherever in the world a spirit sighs, 

Round him thy walls arise ; 

His quiet thoughts a sweet seclusion form 

Amid the strife and storm. 

325 



326 Retirement and Prayer. 

While earnest prayers beseechingly ascend 

To our all-present Friend, 
Earth sinks away ; our griefs, our pains, are still 

Seeking His perfect will : 
And our poor souls grow stronger in thy air, 

O holy place of prayer! 



Retirement and Pra yer. 

And he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed. 
-Luke v. i6. 

If thus our Lord himself withdrew, 

Stealing, at times, away. 
E'en from the loved, the chosen, few, 

In solitude to pray. 
How should His followers, frail, and weak. 
Such seasons of retirement seek ! 

Seldom, amid the strife, and din, 

Of sublunary things, 
Can spirits keep their watch within. 

Or plume their heavenward wings ; 



My Vesper-Song, 327 

He must dwell deep, indeed, whose heart 
Can thus fulfil true wisdom's part. 



Retirement must adjust the beam, 
And prayer must poise the scales; 

Our Guide, Example, Head supreme, 
In neither lesson fails; 

Oh, may we in remembrance bear 

He sought retirement, practised prayer. 



My Vesper-Song. 

Filled with weariness, and pain, 
Scarcely strong enough to pray, 

In this twilight-hour I sit— 
Sit, and sing my doubts away. 

O'er my broken purposes, 

Ere the coming shadows roll, 
Let me build a bridge of song, 
''Jesus, Lover of my soul." 



328 Aly Vesper-Song, 

" Let me to Thy bosom fly " ! 

How the words my thoughts repeat ! 
To Thy bosom, Lord, I come. 
Though unfit to kiss Thy feet. 

Once I gathered sheaves for Thee, 

Dreaming I could hold them fast; 
Now I can but idly sing, 
*'0h, receive my soul at last!" 

I am weary of my fears; 

Like a child, when night comes on, 
In the shadozv, Lord, I sing, 
"Leave, oh, leave me not alone P^ 

Through the tears I still must shed, 

Through the evil yet to be, 
Though I falter while I sing 
"Still support, and comfort, me, 

"All my trust on Thee is stayed." 
Does the rhythm of the song. 
Softly falling on my heart, 

Make its pulses firm, and strong, 



My Vesper-Song. 329 

Or is this Thy perfect peaee 

Now descending while I sing, 
That my soul may sleep to-night 
'•'Neath the shadow of Thy wing"? 

"Thou of life the Fountain art," 
If I slumber on Thy breast; 
If I sing myself to sleep, 

Sleep, and death, alike are rest. 

Through the shadows overpast. 

Through the shadows yet to be. 
Let the ladder of my song 
"Rise to all eternity." 

Note by note its silver bars 
May my soul in love ascend, 

Till I reach the highest round 
In Thy kingdom without end. 

Not impatiently I sing, 

Though I stretch my hands, and cry, 
"Jesus, Lover of my soul. 

Let me to Thy bosom fly." 



330 Pray 67^ and Praise, 

Prayer and Praise. 

If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old 
things are passed away, behold all things are become new. 
— 2 Cor. v. 17. 

We praise, and bless Thee, gracious Lord, 

Our Saviour kind, and true. 
For all the old things passed away. 

For all Thou hast made new. 

Thou, only Thou, must carry on 

The work Thou hast begun ; 
Of Thine own strength Thou must impart 

In Thine own ways to run. 

Whate'er would tempt the soul to stray, 

Or separate, from Thee, 
That, Lord, remove, however dear 

To the poor heart it be. 

When the flesh sinks, then strengthen Thou 

The spirit from above; 
Make us to feel Thy service sweet, 

And light Thy yoke of love. 



Thy Will be Done. 331 

So shall we faultless stand at last 
Before Thy Father's throne, 

The blessedness for ever ours, 
The glory all Thine own. 



Thy Will be Done. 

How sweet to be allowed to pray 

To God, the Holy One ! 
With filial love, and trust, to say, 
"O God, Thy will be done!" 

We in these sacred words can find 

A cure for every ill ; 
They calm, and soothe, the troubled mind, 
^ And bid all care be still. 

Oh, may that will, that gave me birth. 

And an immortal soul, 
In joy, or grief, in life, or death. 

My every wish control ! 



332 Prayer for Divine Strength, 

Oh, could my heart thus ever pray, 

Thus imitate Thy Son ! 
Teach me, O God, in truth to say, 
"Thy will, not mine, be done!" 



Prayer for Divine Strength. 

Father, in Thy mysterious presence kneeling, 
Fain would our souls feel all Thy kindling 
love, 
For we are weak, and need some deep reveal- 
ing 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from 
above. 

Lord, we have wandered forth through doubt, 
and sorrow. 
And Thou hast made each step an onward 
one, 
And we will ever trust each unknown mor- 
row: 
lyioic wilt sustain 7is till its work is done. 



Faith. 333 

In the heart's depths a peace serene, and holy, 
Abides ; and when pain seems to have its 
will, 

Or we despair, oh may that peace rise slowly. 
Stronger than agony, and we be still. 

Now, Father, now, in Thy dear presence 
kneeling. 
Our spirits yearn to feel Thy kindling love ; 
Now make us strong : we need Thy deep re- 
vealing 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from 
above. 



' Faith. 

Still will we trust, though earth seem dark, 
and dreary, 
And the heart faint beneath His chastening 
rod. 
Though rough, and steep, our pathway, worn, 
and weary. 

Still will we trust in God. 



334 Faith. 

Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed, 
And our blind choosing brings us grief, and 
pain; 
Through Him alone who hath our way ap- 
pointed 

We find our peace again. 

Choose for us, God, nor let our weak prefer- 
ring 
Cheat our poor souls of good Thou hast 
designed ; 
Choose for us God: Thy wisdom is unerring, 
And we are fools, and blind. 

So from our sky the Night shall furl her 
shadows. 
And Day pour gladness through his golden 
gates ; 
Our rough path leads to flower-enamelled 
meadows, 

Where joy our coming waits. 



The Angel of the Lord. 335 

Let us press on in patient self-denial, 

Accept the hardship, shrink not from the 
loss; 
Our guerdon lies beyond the hour of trial, 
Our crown beyond the cross. 



The Angel of the Lord. 

The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that 
fear him, and delivereth them. — Psalm xxxiv. 7. 

In the deep watches of the night, 
When slumber closes every eye, 

I wake, and seek, with yearning sight, 
The encamping angel drawing nigh, 

With bending head, and folded wing. 

I cannot see that lovelit face. 
So dim, so shadowy, a thing 

It melts into the night's embrace, 

Yet comes o'er me celestial calm, 
A blest repose, a peaceful prayer, 



336 The Hour of Prayer, 

I hear faint music of a psalm, 
A holy lull is in the air. 

I trust the Lord; I fold my hands 
In suppliance upon my breast, 

And leave to Him the dropping sands 
That waste my pulse, and sweetly rest. 

And when death-shadows o'er me steal, 
Wilt thou draw nearer, holy guest. 

The glory of thy form reveal. 

And bear me upward to the blest? 



The Hour of Prayer. 

My God, is any hour so sweet. 

From blush of morn to evening star, 
As that which calls me to Thy feet, 
The hour of prayer? 

Blest is the tranquil hour of morn. 

And blest that hour of solemn eve, 
When, on the wings of prayer upborne, 
The world I leave. 



The Hours of Evening Close. 2iZl 

• TJien is my strength by Thee renewed ; 
Then are my sins by Thee forgiven; 
Then dost Thou cheer my sohtude 

With hopes of heaven. 

No words can tell what sweet relief 

There for my every want I find; 
What strength for warfare, balm for grief, 
What peace of mind. 

Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear; 

My spirit seems in heaven to stay. 
And e'en the penitential tear 
Is wiped away. 



The Hours of Evening Close, 

The hours of evening close. 
Its lengthened shadows, drawn 

O'er scenes of earth, invite repose. 
And wait the Sabbath dawn. 

So let its calm prevail 

O'er forms of outward care, 

22 



338 The Parting Spirit, 

Nor thought for many things assail 
The still retreat of prayer. 

Our guardian Shepherd near 

His watchful eye will keep, 
And safe from violence, or fear, 

Will fold His flock to sleep. 
So may a holier light 

Than earth's our spirits rouse, 
And call us, strengthened by His might, 

To pay the Lord our vows. 



The Parting Spirit. 

A BREEZE passed by, and bore away 
The last breath of a dying flower; 

A lonely bird sat on the spray. 

Warbling a plaintive melody. 
In that still evening hour ; 

The last note trembled in the trees, 

TJien floated with the passing breeze; 

The song was hushed, the flower was gone, 

But still the gentle breeze went on. 



The Parting Spirit, 339 

On a lone couch a maiden lay, 

Her life of suffering nearly o'er, 
Her hours of sorrow sanctified, 
Her gentle spirit purified, 

Her peace for evermore, 
Her maiden heart to Heaven wed. 
Her feeble feet by angels led 

To that calm, holy shore. 

" Father," she said, " once more 

Let Thy cool breezes play upon my brow; 
Father, I love Thy world : in it I see 
A reflex of Thine own divinity. 
And all its tuneful voices speak of Thee. 

"My Father, if by pain 

I have been drawn more closely unto Thee, 
I bless Thee for the trial, and the loss, 
I bless Thee for the suffering, and the cross; 
All, all is naught to this eternal gain. 

" Now, Father, I would look 

Once more upon Thy blessed earth and sky; 



340 The Evening Service. 

I would retain the pleasant memories 
Of Nature's loveliest sights and harmonies ; 
Naught Thou hast made can be unworthy 
Thee ; 
And while Thy balmy zephyrs round me play, 
My soul on wings of love shall soar away." 

The perfumed breeze stole in; 

Sweetness, and music, filled, and thrilled, the 
air; 
An angel touched his harp; the censer swung; 
The natural, and divine, were blent in one. 

And all was hallowed there; 
And song of bird, and soul of flower, were 

given. 
Companions of that lovely soul to heaven. 



The Evening Service. 

The sun had drawn near to his setting. 
One beautiful Sabbath in yinie, 

When I sat by my window, and listened, 
Spellbound, to a glorious tune. 



The Eventing Service, 341 

'Twas the peal of a wonderful organ, 
Touched by a performer unseen, 

And the full-volumed music arose, like 
The prelude to some mighty strain. 

Then the whole "voice of Nature" responded 

In chorus that floated along; 
The high air, the low earth, the deep ocean, 

All joined in harmonious song. 

I thought I well could interpret 
The meaning of this festive lay: 

'Twas a tribute of praise and thanksgiving 
To Him who perfected the day. 

Then I knew 'twas the afternoon service, 
' And our priest was the bird on a tree. 
For a glory from heaven was on him ; 
No priest unanointed was he. 

So I waited in reverent silence 

Till the going down of the sun 
For the prayer, and the hymn, and the bless- 
ing, 

That come when the sermon is done. 



342 Night- Musiiigs. 

But one long, continuous warble 

Was sermon, and anthem, and prayer, 

And I knew not the service was over 
Till the priest was away in the air. 



Night-Musings. 



In the still silence of the voiceless night, 
When, chased by airy dreams, my slumbers 
flee, 
Whom, in the darkness, doth my spirit seek, 
O God, but Thee ? 

And if there be a weight upon my breast, 
Some vague impressions of the day fore- 
gone, 
Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee, 
And lay it down. 

Or if it be the heaviness that comes 

In token of anticipated ill. 
My bosom takes no heed of what it is. 
Since 'tis Thy will. 



Mid7iight Hymn, 343 

For oh, in spite of past, and present, care, 

Or anything beside, how joyfully 
Passes that full, full hour. 

My God, with Thee! 



More tranquil than the stillness of the night. 
More peaceful than the silence of that hour, 
More blest than anything, my spirit lies 
Beneath Thy power. 

For what is there on earth that I desire. 

Of all that it can give, or take from me, 
Or whom in heaven doth my spirit seek, 
O God, but Thee? 



Midnight Hymn. 

Where'er I am, whate'er I see, 
Eternal Lord, is full of Thee; 
I feel Thee in the gloom of night, 
I view Thee in the morning light. 



344 Midnight Hymn. 

When care distracts my anxious soul, 
Thy grace can every thought control ; 
Thy word can still the troubled heart, 
And peace, and confidence, impart. 



If pain invade my broken rest, 

Or if corroding griefs molest, 

Soon as the Comforter appears, 

My sighs are hushed, and dried my tears. 

Thy wisdom guides, Thy will directs. 
Thy arm upholds, Thy power protects ; 
With Thee when I at dawn converse. 
The shadows sink, the clouds disperse. 

Then, as the sun illumes the skies, 
O Sun of righteousness, arise ! 
Dispel the fogs of mental night, 
Being of beings. Light of light! 



Still with Thee, 345 



Still with Thee. 

Still, still with Thee when purple morning 
breaketh, 
When the bird waketh, and the shadows 
flee; 
Fairer than morning, lovelier than the day- 
light, 
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with 
Thee. 

Alone with Thee amid the mystic shadow, 
The solemn hush of Nature newly born ; 

Alone with Thee in breathless adoration 

In the calm dew, and freshness, of the 
morn. 

As, in the dawning, o'er the waveless ocean, 
The image of the morning star doth rest, 

So, in this stillness, Thou beholdest only 
Thine image in the waters of my breast. 



346 Still with Thee, 

Still, still with Thee, as to each new-born 
morning 
A fresh, and solemn splendor still is given ; 
So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking, 
Breathe, each day, nearness unto Thee, and 
heaven. 



When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to 
slumber, 
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer; 
Sweet the repose beneath Thy wing's o'er- 
shading, 
But sweeter still to wake, and find Thee 
there. 

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning 
When the soul waketh, and life's shadows 
flee; 
Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawn- 
ing. 
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with 
Thee! 



Morning Prayer m Ilhiess. 347 



Morning Pra yer in Illness. 

How I rejoice to see the morning light 
Shine in my room, chasing away the night 

Of pain, and fear ! 
And yet the darkness is as Hght to Thee; 
I cannot fear that aught can injure me, 

If Thou art near. 



Another day is added to my life; 
Again I gird me to endure the strife 

I wage with pain ; 
Purge out the dross, O God ! the gold re- 
fine, 
And stamp Thy image on Thy work, so mine 

Be all the gain. 

Oh, give me patience, so that I may bear 
The weary weight of thought, and pain, and 
care, 

That marks each day; 



348 Mor7iing Prayer in Illness, 

I would not shrink from what Thou dost de- 
cree ; 

I ask but strength — the strength that comes 
from Thee: 

Grant this, I pray. 

Amid my every pain may I but keep 
A loving, tender heart for all who weep 

O'er fond hopes slain; 
For all who sin, and suffer, and thus learn 
Their only hope of peace is to return 

To Thee again. 

Thy service needs that many " stand and wait," 
While other favored ones attend Thy state, 

And do Thy will ; 
Among the waiting souls e'en I may stand, 
Ready to do, or bear, at Thy command. 

Patient, and still. 

And when, at length, life's clouded day shall 

close. 
Within the grave my body shall repose 
In death's long night; 



The Earthly Temple. 349 

But that which makes myself, shall soar away 
To hope's fruition, life, celestial day, 
And radiant light. 



The Earthly Temple. 

The earthly temple which so long 
My soul hath called her own 

Is now fast crumbling into dust; 
'Twill soon be overthrown. 



Yet in each added hour of life 

A Father's love I see, 
Though I am weak, and suffering. 

And longing to be free. 



When, from my sleepless couch, I view 

The light of coming day, 
I'll think of the dark night of sin 

In which my spirit lay. 



350 The Earthly Temple, 

And of the Sun of righteousness, 
Which made its darkness light, 

And, chasing doubts, and fears, away. 
Will change faith into sight. 

And if another night I'm still 

In this poor body pent, 
I'll look out on the gentle stars, 

And think of Him who sent 

The guiding star of Bethlehem 

To point the humble place 
Where lay the wondrous Saviour-child, 

Who now heaven's throne doth grace. 

My soul will soon behold Him; 

Oh that the hour would come 
When heaven's gate shall open 

To receive me to my home ! 

I'll mourn not, though I'm parting 
With loved ones who on earth 

Have ofttimes cheered my pathway, 
They too, claim heavenly birth. 



The Earthly Temple. 351 

Soon will end their day of sorrow, 

Soon close their mortal strife, 
And through Jesus' name they'll enter 

The inheritance of life. 

And when they're upward soaring 

To their dwelling in the sky. 
My soul will come, and meet them, 

And homeward with them fly. 

And when, at times, a feeling 
Of dread steals o'er my heart — 

Dread of the last great struggle. 
When soul, and body, part — 

I'll think of His sweet promise. 
That, though all friends must fail, 

Not lonely, or forsaken, 

Shall I enter the dark vale. 

" I will come, and will receive you," 
He said in gentle tone ; 
And upon His bosom leaning. 
My spirit shall go home. 



352 The Earthly Temple. 

Jesus for His beloved 

Thus tenderly doth care, 
Not e'en with the bright angels 

Will He the burden share. 

And oh, the heavenly rapture 

Which my ransomed spirit thrills, 

As, amid the golden sunshine 
On the everlasting hills, 

I greet my long-lost friends, 
Earth's dear ones gone before. 

Waiting in light to greet me, 
Safe on the other shore. 

Where'er my body resteth — 

It matters not to me; 
All earth is in God's keeping — 

Each atom that we see, — 

If flowers shall bloom above me. 
May all who on them gaze 

Think of the Hand which formed them. 
And of His wondrous ways. 



The Earthly Temple, 353 

He to a flower compareth 

This fleeting life of ours ; 
May we bloom in His garden ! 

May we be heavenly flowers ! 

When wintry winds are blowing, 
And snow-wreaths crown my grave, 

Think of the wondrous mercy 
Of Him who came to save, 

From swift, and sure, destruction, 

Each contrite heart below. 
And, "though their sins be scarlet," 

Hath made them "white as snow." 

Thus may I still, dear Jesus, 

Be unto all I love 
One who, "though dead, yet speaketh," 

To draw their hearts above. 

That in the heavenly mansions 

Eternity may show 
Not one sweet spirit missing 

Of all I've loved below. 

23 



354 Psalm xxiv. i. 

Into Thine ear, dear Jesus, 
I breathe this earnest prayer 

Now fold me to Thy bosom, 
To rest for ever there. 



Psalm xxiv. i, 

"I will bless the Lord at all times." 

Tender mercies on my way, 
FaUing softly, like the dew, 

Sent me freshly every day, 
I will bless the Lord for you. 

Though I have not all I would. 
Though to greater bliss I go, 

Every present gift of good 
To eternal Love I owe. 

Source of all that comforts me. 
Well of joy for which I long. 

Let the song I sing to Thee 
Be an everlasting song. 



VI, 



FATHER AND MOTHER, 



'^^nb tl|eir cljilbreti atm anb call tijem blesacb/' 



FATHER AND MOTHER. 



Memories, 



The memories of departed ones ! 

How beautiful they seem! 
They are with us ever in our walks, 

And lurk in every dream ; 
And often, at the twilight hour, 

They rise to bless our sight 
With the radiance of the spirit-land, 

With their soft, angelic light. 
These memories of departed ones 

Are blessings to us given 
To draw us from this earth away. 

And prepare us all for Heaven. 

357 



358 Sleepi7ig, 



Light. 

The shadows of life melt into the Light of 
eternity, at the place where Death triumphs 
over Nature. 



Sleeping, 



Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 

Pain can never reach them more; 
Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly ! 

All of earth, to them, is o'er. 
That still sea which earth divides 

From the better land beyond it, 
Where the happy soul abides. 

Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 

Mark their calm, unbroken rest! 
Speaks it not of placid slumber 

On a gentle Saviour's breast? 
Speaks it not of peace so hallowed, 

So transcendent, so divine. 



A. P. M. 359 

That each stricken heart must whisper, 
" Would that such a peace were mine " ? 

Who that treads the shaded pathway 

Of a weary world of care, 
Who that feels how oft love sheddeth 

O'er its severed bonds a tear, 
Would not ask the peace unbroken 

Which hath set its signet here? 

Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 

Let not tears bedew their rest; 
Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly. 

On a lovmcr Saviour's breast. 



A. P. M. 



We bend to-day o'er a hallowed form, 

And our tears fall quietly down 
As we look our last on a father's face, 
With its tranquil peace, and its patient grace, 

And hair like a silver crown. 



36o A. P. M. 

As we touch our own to the dear cold hands, 

From life's long labor at rest, 
We notice a bunch of golden wheat, 
Plucked as a token of love so sweet, 

And laid on the silent breast. 

Flowers would have whispered of fadeless 
bloom 

In a land where fall no tears, 
But the ripe wheat tells of the toil, and care, 
The patient waiting, the trusting prayer, 

And the garnered good of years. 

We knew through what labors his hands had 
pressed. 
Through what rugged places his feet, 
And we joyed in the peace on his brow so 

white, 
As though touched already with heaven's own 
light, 
As it shone in the ripened wheat. 

As each goes up from the fields of earth, 
Bearing the treasures of life, 



Our Mother. 361 

God looks for the gathered grains of good 
From the ripened harvest that shining stood 
But waiting the reaper's knife. 

Then faithfully toil, that in death you may go 

Not only with blossoms sweet, 
Not bent with doubts, or burdened with 

fears, 
Or with dead, dry husks of life's wasted 
years. 
But laden with golden wheat. 



Our Mother. 



We have lost thee, we have lost thee, and 

thy orphan children weep 
As we lay our only parent down to her last 

dreamless sleep ; 
Ah, yes ! in loneliness of soul do we bewail 

our loss, 
Beloved mother in the truth, tried soldier of 

the cross. 



362 Otu' Mother. 

But if the lowly Lamb of God — He who 

could raise the dead — 
Tears such as angels weep upon the grave of 

Lazarus shed, 
May we not sorrow too for one we never can 

restore — 
A mother, whose maternal voice will come to 

us no more? 



We know she longed at times to lay her bur- 
den down; 

She, having meekly borne her cross, was wait- 
ing for her crown; 

The Angel of the covenant but wrought a 
sweet release 

When he touched the weary wheels of life, 
and bade her conflict cease. 



And now her ransomed spirit swells the rapt 
angelic throng; 

Her glad, triumphant voice repeats the enrap- 
tured song; 



/ 



Our Mother. 363 

A new and radiant crovv^n lies at the Father's 

feet, 
And her Hberated soul attests that rest is 

sweet. 



Who shall be ever on the watch like thee 

when duty calls, 
To wave the standard of our faith above our 

Zion's walls? 
The answer rests with God alone; let us in 

hope abide : 
When He requires the sacrifice, He will the 

lamb provide. 

But if among us should arise no gifted one 
like thee. 

Like " bread upon the waters " cast, thy min- 
istry shall be ; 

Its blessed influence shall extend even to com- 
ing years, 

And call the wayward wanderer back through 
penitence and tears. 



364 The Saint's Departure. 

Mother, we cannot call thee back, yet not 
comfortless are we. 

For He who gave thee still remains to lead 
us on our way; 

And while in this deep chastisement a Fa- 
ther's hand appears, 

Faith's struggling sunbeam intertwines a rain- 
bow with our tears. 



The Saints Departure. 

"What! almost home?" "Yes, almost home," 

she said, 
And light seemed gleaming on her aged head. 
"Jesus is very precious!" Those who near 
Her bedside stood were thrilled those words 

to hear. 
"Toward His blest home I turn my willing 

feet; 
Hinder me not: I go my Lord to meet." 
Silence ensued. She seemed to pass away 
Serene, and quiet, as that summer day. 



The Saint's Departure. 365 

"Speak," cried, through tears, her daughter, 

bending low, 
" One word, beloved mother, ere you go." 
She spake that word, the last she spake on 

earth, 
In whispering tones — that word of wondrous 

worth : 
"Jesus!" The sorrowing listeners caught the 

sound, 
But angels heard it with a joy profound. 
Back, at its mighty power, the gates unfold — 
The gates of pearl that guard the streets of 

gold. 
The harpers with their harps took up the 

strain, 
And sang the triumphs of the Lamb again, 
As through the open portals entered in 
Another soul redeemed from death and sin. 
And as from earth her spirit passed away, 
To dwell for ever in the realms of day. 
Those who were left to mourn could almost 

hear 
The strains of heavenly music strike the ear; 



366 Fold her Hands Gently. 

And to their longing eyes by grace was given 
In such a scene, as 'twere, a glimpse of hea- 
ven. 



Fold her Hands Gently. 

Fold her hands gently o'er the quiet breast, 

The placid sleeper ! 
Her soul hath entered in its final rest, 

Where angels keep her. 
A peace is brooding o'er the face so pale. 
Such as comes only from behind the veil, 
As though the soul threw back one parting 

glance, 
In lingering pity, ere its rapt advance. 

Gone but a little while before, not lost, 

Buds bloom above thee; 
Best mourned by those who knew thee most, 

And knew to love thee, 
Henceforth all Nature's fairest scenes shall be 
To them the silent witnesses for thee ; 
Though many memories bitterly they wake. 
They shall be held the dearer for thy sake. 



Mother, 367 

Farewell, dear one ! We bid a brief " Good- 
night" 

From our dim sphere; 
Thy lovely face is folded from our sight 

For ever here. 
May it be ours, when at last we come, 
If so our Father bless us, to our home. 
When the gray shadow breaks to heaven's 

dawning. 
To hear thy welcome in a brighter morning. 



Mother. 



Would I replace the earthly bonds 

Of mortal care and pain, 
To call thee from thy blest abode 

To toil on earth again? 

One holy aim, one bright, bright prize, 
Engaged thy fervent care — 

To form thy spirit for the skies, 
To lead thy children there. 



368 Mother, 

The paths of death with glory shine, 

Where saints the call obey ; 
A light from heaven, an Arm divine, 

Are round them on the way. 

I saw, I felt, celestial aid 

Attend the parting breath; 
My soul was with thee through the shade. 

And at the gates of death. 

Sweet was the close, though all around 

In silent anguish hung; 
Calm was thy spirit, low the sound 

That trembled on thy tongue. 

Rest, and may we that bliss attain 

Where thou art gone before; 
And God shall join our souls again, 

For death to part no more. 



/ Love thy Grave, 369 



/ Love thy Grave. 

Mother, I love thy grave! 
The violet, with its blossoms, blue, and mild, 
Waves o'er thy head : when shall it wave 

Above thy child? 

'Tis a sweet flower, yet must 
Its bright leaves to the coming tempest bow; 
Dear mother, 'tis thy emblem : dust 

Is on thy brow. 

Where is thy spirit flown? 
I gaze above : thy look is imaged there ; 
I listen, and thy gentle tone 

Is in the air. 



Oh, bless thy weeping child ! 
And o'er thy urn, religion's holiest shrine, 
Oh, give tJiis spirit, undefiled. 

To blend with thine. 

24 



370 The Blessedness of Tears, 



The Blessedness of Tears. 

Who that has wept can e'er forget 
Those darkened hours of pain, 

When some fair love of earth has set, 
Never to rise again? 



While 'mid the depth of sorrow's night, 

A far-off trembling ray- 
Hath fallen on faith's upward sight. 

Invisible by day. 

And as the lonely heart hath kept 
Its watch of pain, and prayer, 

A tender, loving voice hath crept 
Across the stern despair. 

It whispers, "Stricken child of woe. 

Turn from thy earthly loss; 
Behold what healing blossoms blow 

Around the heavy cross. 



A Little Way. 371 

" Come unto Me, O anguished soul ! 
From earth's illusive things ; 
My peace o'er thy tired heart shall roll, 
My strength sustain thy wings." 



O only Source of joy! O Love 

Precious beyond belief! 
The soul that rests on Thee shall know 

The blessedness of grief. 



A Little Way. 



A LITTLE way ! I know it is not far 
To that dear home where my beloved are ; 
And still my heart sits, like a bird, upon 
The empty nest, and mourns its treasures 
gone. 

Plumed for their flight, 
And vanished quite. 
Ah me ! where is the comfort ? though I say 
They have but journeyed on a little way. 



372 A Little Way, 

A little way! At times they seem so near, 
Their voices even murmur in my ear, 
To all my duties loving presence lend, 
And with sweet ministry my steps attend. 
'Twas here we met, and parted company ; 
Why should their gain be such a grief to me? 

This sense of loss ! 

This heavy cross ! 
Dear Saviour, take the burden off, I pray, 
And show me heaven is but — a little way. 

A little way ! The sentence I repeat, 

Hoping, and longing, to extract some sweet 

To mingle with the bitter; from Thy hand 

I take the cup I cannot understand. 

And in my weakness give myself to Thee. 

Although it seems so very, very far 

To that dear home where my beloved are, 

I know, I know, 

It is not so ; 
Oh, give me faith to feet it, when I say 
That they are gone — gone but a little way. 



Fold Them, 373 



Father and Mother. 

Thou God of love ! beneath Thy sheltering 
wings 

We leave our holy dead 
To rest in hope; from this world's sufferings 

Their souls have fled. 



Oh, when our souls are burdened with the 
weight 

Of life, and all its woes, 
Let us remember them, and calmly wait 

For our life's close. 



Fold Them. 



Fold them, O Father! in Thine arms, 
And may they henceforth be 

As messengers of love between 
Our human hearts, and Thee. 



374 Sunset 



Sunset. 

Like a gleam of the sunset slow melting in 

heaven ; 
Like a star that is lost when daylight is 

riven ; 
Like a glad dream of slumber that wakens 

to bliss ; — 
They passed to the land of the holy from 

this. 



The 'pilgrimage fath shall no more be trod 
"A rest rem^ains for the "people of God." 



VII. 

HEAVENLY DAWN 



Heavenly Dawn, 



Satisfied. 

" I shall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness." 

Tired, dear pilgrim hearts, of life's weary 

way; 
Tired of its sunless hours, and clouds cold, 

and gray; 
Tired quaffing the mixed cup of bitter, and 
p sweet ; 
Tired longing for dear ones here never to 

meet. 

Tired of scattering, and not gathering in ; 
Tired of the wrestling with trial, and sin; 
Tired masking by smiles the heart's hidden 

grief; 
Tired waiting for nightfall to bring you relief. 

377 



378 Life's Years. 

Rest comes with the Dawn of an endless to- 
morrow ; 

Its hours are not marked by heart-throbs of 
sorrow ; 

The smile of the Saviour scatters grief, sin 
and pain, 

While our dearest heart-treasures He gives us 
again. 

The darker the storm-clouds impending above, 
More golden the tints of God's iris of love ; 
So, trusting, and waiting the fast-ebbing tide, 
Tired hearts shall ere long rest in Him, satis- 
fied. 



LIFE'S Years. 



These years of life ! What do they seem ? 

A little dream 
Of pain and pleasure blent together, 
A time of sharply-changing weather, 
When brilliant sunbeams gleam, and die, 
On heavy storm-clouds sailing by — 



Life's Years, 379 

Where falling tears 
Are bright with hope, and cold with fears. 

The years, the clouds, have had their course; 

Their mingled force 
Has bowed my heart, and bent my head; 
Sunshine and storm alike are fled. 
And in their place a heavy gray 
Dulls all the tinting of the day. 

Shall growing light 
Follow the gray? or deepening night? 

What shall the future progress be 

Of life with me? 
God knows : I roll on Him my care ; 
Night is 7iot night if He be there. 
When daylight is no longer mine, 
And stars forbidden are to shine, 

I'll turn my eyes 
To where eternal day shall rise. 

That coming light no mortal cloud 
Can quite enshroud; 



380 Western Light. 

Through all our doubts, above the range 

Of every fear, and every change, 

My faith can see, with weary eye, 

The Dazvn of heaven on earth's dim sky, 

And from afar 
Shines on my soul the Morning Star. 



Western Light. 



Behold the western evening light! 

It melts in deepening gloom ; 
So calmly Christians sink away, 

Descending to the tomb. 

The winds breathe low, the withering leaf 
Scarce whispers from the tree; 

So gently flows the parting breath 
When good men cease to be. 

How beautiful on all the hills 

The crimson light is shed ! 
'Tis like the peace the Christian gives 

To mourners round his bed. 



Heavenly Dawn. 381 

How mildly on the wandering cloud 

The sunset beam is cast! 
Tis like the memory left behind 

When loved ones breathe their last. 



Heavenly Dawn. 

Slowly depart the shades of night 
From woodland, stream and hill; 

All nature in the growing light 
Stirs with awakenmg thrill. 

On every side what joyous notes 
Welcome the new-born day! 

Forth from a myriad swelling throats 
Springs the exultant lay. 

On the green hillside shade, and shine, 
Like gentle breathings pass; 

The hemlock, and the sturdy pine, 
Wave like a robe of grass. 



382 The Voice of the Loi^d, 

The clouds, and mists, of early dawn. 
The solemn gloom of night, 

Appear as though for ever gone 
Before this golden light. 

The scene a symbol seems to me 

Of the transcendent bliss, 
Of what the pardoned soul may see 

Who leaves a world like this. 

And o'er death's fearsome, awful night 

Beholds a glory shine, 
Until the soul is filled with light 

From the pure Sun divine. 



The Voice of the Lord. 

" The voice of the Lord is mightier than the noise of 
many waters." 

When black the threatening clouds appear, 

And storms my path invade. 
That voice shall tranquilize each fear: 
" 'Tis I ! Be not afraid !" 



The New Song, 383 



The New Song. 

Beyond the hills where suns go down, 
And brightly beckon as they go, 

I see the land of far renown — 

The land which I so soon shall know. 



Above the dissonance of time, 
And discord of its many words, 

I hear the everlasting chime 
The music of unjarring chords. 

I bid it welcome, and my haste 
To join it cannot brook delay; 

O song of morning, come at last! 
And, ye who sing it, come away. 



O song of light, and dawn, and bliss ! 

Sound over earth, and fill these skies, 
Nor ever, ever, ever cease 

Thy soul-entrancing melodies. 



384 On the Threshold, 



On the Threshold, 

I'm returning, not departing; 

My steps are homeward bound; 
I quit the land of strangers 

For a home on native ground. 



I am rising, and not setting; 

This is not night, but day; 
Not in darkness, but in sunshine, 

Like a star, I fade away. 

All is well with me for ever; 

I do not fear to go ; 
My tide is but beginning 

Its bright eternal flow. 

I am leaving only shadows 

For the true, and fair, and good ; 

I must not, cannot, linger; 
I would not thouGfh I could. 



The Border -Land, 385 

This is not death's dark portal, 
Tis hfe's golden gate, to me; 

Link after link is broken, 
And I at last am free. 



I am going to the angels, 
I am going to my God ; 

I know the Hand that beckons, 
I see the holy road. 

Jesus, Thou wilt receive me, 
And welcome me, above; 

The sunshine which now fills me 
Is Thine own smile of love. 



The Border -Land. 

Father, into Thy loving hands 

My feeble spirit I commit 
While wandering in these border-lands, 

Until Thy voice shall summon it. 

25 



386 The Dordei' -Laiid, 

Father, I would not dare to choose 
A longer life, an earlier death ; 

I know not what my soul might lose 
By shortened, or protracted, breath. 

These border-lands are calm, and still, 
And solemn are their silent shades; 

And my heart welcomes them, until 
The light of life's long evening fades. 

I've heard them spoken of with dread, 
As fearful, and unquiet, places — 

Shades where the living, and the dead, 
Look sadly in each other's faces ; 

But since Thy hand hath led me here. 
And I have seen the border-land — 

Seen the dark river flowing near, 

Stood on its brink, as now I stand — 

There has been nothing to alarm 

My trembling soul : how could I fear 

While thus encircled with Thine arm ? 
I never felt Thee half so near. 



The Border 'Land. 387 

What should appall me in a place 

That brings me hourly nearer Thee — 

Where I may almost see Thy face? 
Surely 'tis here my soul would be. 

They say the waves are dark, and deep, 
That faith has perished in the river; 

They speak of death with fear, and weep ; 
Shall my soul perish? Never, never! 

I know that Thou wilt never leave 
The soul that trembles while it clings 

To Thee ; I know Thou wilt achieve 
Its passage on Thine outstretched wings. 

I cannot see the golden eate 
Unfolding yet to welcome me ; 

I cannot yet anticipate 

The joy of heaven's jubilee; 

But I will calmly watch, and pray. 
Until I hear my Saviour's voice 

Calling my happy soul away 
To see His glory, and rejoice. 



388 The Other World. 



The Other World. 

It lies around us like a cloud, 

A world we do not see, 
Yet the sweet closing of an eye 

May bring us there to be. 

Its gentle breezes fan our cheek ; 

Amid our worldly cares, 
Its gentle voices whisper love, 

And mingle with our prayers. 

Sweet hearts around us throb, and beat, 
Sweet helping hands are stirred, 

And palpitates the veil between 
With breathings almost heard. 

The silence, awful, sweet and calm, 
They have no power to break. 

For mortal words are not for them 
To utter, or partake. 



The Other World. 389 

So, then, so soft, so sweet, they glide, 

So near to press they seem, 
They seem to lull us to our rest. 

And melt into our dream. 

And in the hush of rest they bring 

'Tis easy now to see 
How lovely, and how sweet, a pass 

The hour of death may be — 

To close the eye, and close the ear, 
Wrapped in a trance of bliss. 

And gently dream in loving arms, 
To swoon to that from this. 

Scarce knowing if we wake, or sleep, 

Scarce asking where we are, 
To feel all evil sink away, 

All sorrow, and all care. 

Sweet souls around us, watch us still, 

Press nearer to our side ; 
Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 

With gentle helpings glide. 



390 Many Mansions. 

Let death between us be as naught, 
A dried and vanished stream ; 

Your joy be the reahty, 

Our suffering Hfe the dream. 



Many Mansions. 



" Let not your heart be trouble d^' jfesiis said; 

" My Father's house has mansions large, and 
fair ; 
I go before yon to prepare yotir place ; 

I will return to take yon zvith me there y 



As when the weary traveller gains 
The height of some o'erlooking hill, 

His heart revives if o'er the plain 

He sees his home, though distant still, 

Thus, when the Christian pilgrim views 
By faith his mansion in the skies. 

The sight his fainting strength renews, 
And wings his speed to win the prize. 



/ shall be Satisfied, 391 

" 'Tis there," he says, " I am to dwell 
With Jesus in the realms of day; 
Then shall I bid my cares farewell, 
And He shall wipe my tears away." 

Jesus, on Thee our hope depends 
To lead us on to Thine abode, 

Assured our home will make amends 
For all our toil while on the road. 



/ SHALL BE Satisfied. 

Not here ! not here ! Not where the spark- 
ling waters 
Fade into mocking sands as we draw near; 
Where, in the wilderness, each footstep fal- 
ters, 
I shall be satisfied; but oh! not here! 

There is a land where every pulse is thrilling 
With rapture earth's sojourners may not 
know, 



392 / shall be Satisfied. 

Where heaven's repose the weary heart is 
stilling, 
And peacefully life's storm-tossed currents 
flow. 

Satisfied? satisfied? The spirit's yearning 
For sweet companionship with kindred minds, 

The silent love that here meets no returning, 
The inspiration which no language finds — 

I shall be satisfied. The soul's vague long- 
ings, 

The aching void which nothing earthly fills? 
Oh! what desires upon my soul are thronging 

As I look upward to the heavenly hills. 

Thither my weak and weary steps are tending. 
Saviour, and Lord! with Thy frail child abide, 

Guide me toward home, where, all my wan- 
derings ended, 
I then shall see Thee, and ''be satisfied.'* 



VIII. 

HEAVEN. 



HEAVEN. 



Hea ven. 

Where shall I find an image for the 
thought 
Which clusters round the utterance of the 

word 
Whereby all purest hopes and faiths are stir- 
red? 
Through all earth's treasures I have vainly 

sought. 

Yet I remember once upon a brow 
Did I behold a radiance so divine, 
So filled with peace, it moves this soul of 
mine 

With its remote remembrance even now. 

395 



39 6 Rest, 

And I recall the record of that life — 
The patient waiting at Christ's blessed feet, 
The perfect love that made submission sweet, 

The faith that hushed all elements of 
strife — 

Until I find a feeble type is given, 
In that grand hfe, and in that face serene, 
Of what our fancy, clay-bound, and terrene, 

Can picture of the blessedness of Heaven. 



Rest. 

" There remaineth, therefore, a rest to the people of God." 

A REST remains for us beyond earth's sad- 
ness, 
A calm, clear sky, where clouds are never 
seen, 
A home above, where life is perfect gladness, 
And every thought is bathed in joy serene. 



Rest, 



397 



A rest in Heaven! O ye who, bowed in sor- 
row, 
See only shadows gathering on hfe's sea, 
Look through your falling tears to that bright 
morrow, 
And think — oh, think! — how calm your rest 
will be. 

Think that your tears will then be dried for 
ever ; 
Think that your hearts will nevermore grow 
sad ; 
Think of the dear ones who will leave you 
never ; 
Think, think of this, ye sorrowing, and be 
glad. 

Ah ! should we murmur now at what befalls 
us ? 
The Lord who grieves us knoweth what is 
best; 
By every touch of His just rod He calls us, 
And tells us softly this is not our rest. 



398 Rest 

Thrice-blessed thought! He whispers to us 
ever 
Behind the clouds that hide Him from the 
world, 
A rest remains for us — a rest for ever — 
Where Death's dark banner is no more un- 
furled. 

Oh, let us, then, press on with faith unfeign- 
ing, 
To that fair city in the "better land," 
With patient meekness, calm, and uncom- 
plaining, 
Until we mingle with the white-robed band. 

Beyond the storm a cloudless sky is shining, 
Above the cross is hung a starry crown ; 

Then let us wear life's thorns without repin- 
ing, 
Till for eternal flowers we lay them down. 



Heavenly Rest. 399 



Hea venl V Rest. 

Sweet is the name of rest! 

How vmch the word conveys ! 
It is to be supremely blest 

In the bright world of praise. 

It is to rest from sin, 

Which here will still endure— 
The holy place to enter in, 

And be for ever pure. 

It is to rest from pain, 

From grief, from doubt, from fear, 
No sickness, parting, death, again, 

Nor any falling tear. 

It is to rest with Him 

Whom now, unseen, we trust, 
With cherubim, and seraphim, 

And spirits of the just. 



400 Oh?' Father which art in Hcaz'cn, 

A perfect, cloudless rest, 

And endless Sabbatli-day, 
Blest portion, yet to be possessed, 

And never fade away. 



Ol'R Father which art ix Heavex. 

I MET a little child, whose golden hair 
Around her sunny fece in clusters hung; 
And as she wove her king-cup chain, she 
sung 
Her household melodies — tliose strains that 

bear 
The hearer back to Eden. Surely, ne'er 
A brighter vision blest my dreams. "Whose 

child 
Art tliou " — I said, ** sweet girl?" In ac- 
cent mild 
She answered, " Mother's." When I ques- 
tioned. *' Where 
Her dwelling was," — again she answered, 
''Home!" 



Heaven. aqi 

"Mother! and Home!" Oh blessed igno- 
rance ! 

Or rather blessed knowledge! What ad- 
vance 
Farther than this shall all the years to come 

With all their lore effect? There are but 
given 

Two names of higher note, — " Father, and 
Heaven." 



Hea VEN. 



Too long to higher good, and beauty, blind, 
I plucked the flowers upon my path that 
grew, 
Till, wounded by the thorns, my tortured mind 

Resolved a better country to pursue. 
Land of the pilgrim's hope, and fond desire, 
The land where wearied hearts at last may 
flee, 

26 



402 Heaven. 

To thee at length my quickened thoughts as- 
pire, 
Mine eye is turned, my wings are plumed, 
for thee ; 
And thus I bid, without a tear, farewell 

To all that charmed my sublunary sense, 
Enough for me if I may rise, and dwell 
Where joy shall make no work for peni- 
tence. 
O land where wearied hearts at length may 

flee, 
Mine eye is turned, my wings are plumed, 
for thee. 



THE END. 



/ 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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